Bet My Life
by RedGobletOfRoses
Summary: Miyoko finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people, and the mention of one other person decides her fate. Her life of crime mixes with theirs, all because of a bet gone sour. She has made the greatest gamble. Rated M for Language, Violence, Mild Sexual Themes, and Humour.
1. Chapter 1

Missing Persons Report: Date Filed: 6/17/2010

Name: Usagi, Miyoko

Age: Seventeen

Birthplace: Yokohama, Japan;

Last Seen: Tokyo, Japan

Height: 160 cm (5'1)

Weight: 47 kg (103 pounds)

Hair: Dark brown, straight, long, past shoulders

Eye Colour: Green

Sometime in 2007, Somewhere in Winchester

She was walking alone in the streets, having just run away from that damn orphanage. The wind blew through her brown hair, and hatred reflected in her emerald eyes. All she knew was that she was on the other side of town. There was no one left for her out here. She was fourteen years old, and her parents just abandoned her. Well fuck them. She doesn't care. She's not staying at that house any longer. She doesn't need their shitty food, or their strict rules. She doesn't need all those screaming girls, whining because they didn't get enough food, or someone stole their unicorn dolls. Then there were the girls her age who were swooning at the geniuses that lived at Wammy's.

She pulled out her IPod and shuffled through the songs. She certainly didn't need those girls sneering at her because she came from a family. One hell of a family they were too, seeing as they dumped her here on vacation. They asked her why she would fuck something up so badly. She wasn't that bad of a kid. She wasn't pregnant, she wasn't stuck up like her sister, and she wasn't doing drugs. She was stubborn. She had her pride. She didn't take orders from anyone. She pulled a cigarette from the pack in her pocket as well as the plastic lighter. A moment later she was blowing smoke in the air. The menthol woke up her anger-riddled mind, and the nicotine calmed her nerves.

'_Damn catholic place for girls. Who keeps a house full of just girls, anyway? You can expect nothing but drama from a house full of girls, no matter how hard you try to work it out of us. We're not meant to be kept among ourselves.'_

Someone had the nerve to yank out her headphones. "You seem to be a long way from home," a gruff voice growled at her.

"You seem to want to be knocked on your ass," She answered, looking up.

He was glaring at her with annoyance in his brown eyes. His hair was tasselled and coppery. "You've got a lot of spunk for an orphan."

"Let me guess, you've been following me," She accused. She swung at him and knocked the wind out of his chest. "You've got a lot of nerve, boy."

He scrambled to grab her, but she twisted his arm around his back and thrust it back up into his shoulder blade. He grabbed her waist with his other hand and pinched off a pressure point. She gasped in pain. He threw her into a wall. "Step up your game before dancing with the big dogs," he growled.

She lifted her knee, which met his groin. He howled in pain and doubled over on the ground. She then kicked him in the stomach and hissed back, "Big dogs my ass; you're nothing but a yorkie terrier."

He kicked out her legs from under her, watching her fall to the ground. She landed on her hip and yelled in pain. He glared at her, and she kicked his forehead and watched as blood matted his overgrown red hair.

x*X*x

Sometime in 2010, somewhere between Yokohama and Tokyo

Derrick and she were sparing again when it happened. He panted and looked up at her when he said, "When do you think they'll catch Kira?" Sweat made his copper hair stick to his forehead.

"Before summer, I'd bet anything, with all the police from around the world. No one can hide forever."

Well, June rolled around and there was still no sign of catching Kira. Shitty thing was, he dumped her out in the middle of nowhere because of it. Damn him. She wished she had never kicked his ass that day all those years ago; she should have just killed him. He wouldn't have had the chance to always be telling her they should stick together for safety's sake. He didn't say that until they had fought some four more times. Now he had left her to die out here. "What happened to sticking together?" She shouted. He was gone. She knew he didn't care, the heartless bastard. To make things so much worse, the sun was going down.

It was the taste of imported Swiss cigarettes that woke her up. She shoved the pack back in her trench coat's pocket as the smell of the chocolate quickly filled her mind with sweet fantasies of waterfalls of dark chocolate and raining gumdrops. A little Willy Wonka, but it put a rare smile on her face. She leaned against a tree and puffed happily, forgetting her troubles for a few minutes. She watched the smoke rise from the burning tobacco as she exhaled. She could feel the sting of smoke in her eyes as the wind pushed against her face. It brought some calm to her storm.

Flicking the bud to the ground and stepping on it, her sweet smile vanished as she was ready to face her predicament: She was stranded in a forest with nothing more than this pack of cigarettes and a lighter, a switch blade knife, and the lint from her pockets, which was fucking brilliant. At least she could make a fire, but food? She guessed that she was shit out of luck. No compass, no phone, nothing. She couldn't use technology in their bet, either. She didn't even have her Ipod.

She started walking as the sun set. There is no point in wasting time. Damn her friends and damn their foolish bets. Kira hasn't been found yet, and because the bastard is still killing people, she was knocked out and stranded in the middle of this god forsaken forest. She had bet that he would be found within the month when Jenji asked her what she thought. Man did she think wrong.

She wandered in a large circle on purpose for an hour. She was waiting for the stars to come out. She couldn't see the sunset through the trees, but she could see directly above her. It may take her a five minute climb up an ant riddled tree, but she could see the stars for a little Boy Scout direction finding.

Sitting in that tree, after getting her baggy pants caught a couple times, she could find the North Star. She banged her head on the trunk of the tree. She had passed a building twice on her wait for the cover of darkness. There was light emanating from it. She thought she'd head toward it. She got one foot on the branch below the bough she was sitting on when something caught her eye: there was a flicker of light coming out of a door that had just opened. Some guy stumbled out of the building. She bet he's drunk. He fell off the back steps and nearly face planted into the dirt.

He would be her window of opportunity. She followed her way up to get down from the tree, and dropped to the soft and squishy moss below. She darted the some five hundred yards to the building, and could still see the stumbling buffoon swaying on his way to some back building. She tested the door knob of the back door, but it locked. She would have to either kick in the door, or wait for the man.

If she kicked the door in, then there is a chance that one, the police would be called, or two she would provoke some sort of fight. If she wait for the guy, he'd ask her what she was doing out in butt fuck middle of nowhere. Then she would have to explain the bet… It was either that, or he would just pass out on her and be no help at all, forcing her to kick in the back door.

She figured there was a front door to try, but then she'd have to explain why she was out in the middle of nowhere, which would lead back to the stupid bet anyway. God she hates her friends sometimes.

Before figuring out her best course of action, she found herself with a burlap sac thrown over her head. She kicked and flailed, screaming like a little girl. She felt someone pin her arms behind her and she thrust her head back. She felt it collide with that someone's nose. She stepped back onto the same someone's foot, and heard him scream. Before long, there were more people and shouting male voices. "Fuck my life."

She chose to give up, because she would end up getting hurt more than hurting other people. She was dragged inside to a corridor, shoved against the wall, and frisked for any listening devices. They then removed the sack from her head and threw her into a shower with her clothes still on. She had the common sense to throw the pack of cigarettes on the counter once she realized they were going to do this. One guy took a metal detector to the flimsy box, which went off immediately. They pulled out her lighter and screened it again: nothing. They then took apart her lighter. Derrick gave her that lighter, and now it was rendered useless. "You're buying me a new lighter," She barked. She heard what she assumed to be the fluid cartridge shatter.

Some brunette punk ass wearing goggles pulled her out of the shower and guided her to another room with nothing more than a table and some chairs, taking her cigarettes with him. _Who the hell wears goggles? _He threw her into a chair quite roughly, tied her hands behind her back around the chair, and sat opposite her, facing the door. "I'm not going to bother asking who sent you here."

"I wasn't sent here," she hissed.

"If you were, you'd be bugged."

"Maybe, maybe not," She answered.

"Were you sent here, or were you not?"

"What's it matter to you?" She growled.

He pulled out a switch blade a tad larger than her own and began flicking it open and closed while he talked. "It matters quite a bit, actually." She just noticed he had the undertones of a British accent. Damn Brits, She hated every one of them, unless she has to put up with Derrick, but that's pushing it.

"I'm sorry to be a disappointment to you," she answered, mocking his accent openly, "but I refuse to tell you anything."

His hand collided with the side of her face. She quickly started to retaliate, but she couldn't do much considering she was tied to a chair. She kicked the table over, which landed somewhere unpleasant.

After regaining his composure, setting the table right again, and tying her legs to the chair, he only answered her rebuttal with, "That makes it all worse for you."

"I'm scarred," She gasped sarcastically. He went to slap her again, but she scooted the chair out of his reach and laughed. "Nice try, kid."

The guy got out of his chair and walked around the table to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them half to keep her calm, half to threaten her. "I'm not the worst thing that can happen to you here," he warned her gruffly.

"I'm sure you're not the best either."

He pressed his thumb into her collar bone. "I can get so much worse."

She head butted his abdomen. "I'm sure you could, bucky." Her voice was reduced to a gravely rasp due to the pressure he had put on her wind pipe.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I asked.

He squeezed her shoulders tightly. "I would."

"That doesn't hurt," she pointed out. "It kind of feels good. Keep doing it."

His arms dropped to his side and he walked back to his abandoned chair. He pulled out her pack of cigarettes, took one, and threw the carton back on the table. He put it to his lips and pulled out a red lighter. She watched in anger as he smoked her Swiss cigarettes.

"Chocolate," he smirked, "very feminine."

"Well, I have to be a girl sometimes," she smiled, taunting him. The smile faded away quickly.

He pulled another dreg from it, enjoying its unusual flavour. "I still need your name."

"You don't need my name. You want my name."

"No, I'm quite sure I need it."

"You need my name as much as I need yours."

"You don't need my name."

"Exactly, and I don't want it either."

He glared at me and answered, "Matt."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"My name is Matt."

"I suppose you're telling me this because it implies, under proper happenstance, that I need to give you my name."

"Well, if it works, then yes."

"There's one thing that you overlooked."

"What would that be?" he asked.

"I've been abducted, you're smoking my cigarette, I'm being interrogated, and I'm not a 'lady' by anyone's standards. I don't give a damn about what's proper."

He laughed lightly at her comment. "I figured it'd be something like that," he answered. "After all, I'm not proper either."

"There's an understatement. I thought the British were supposed to be gentlemen."

"I thought the Japanese were supposed to be honourable."

"Well, I'd have to choose between honour and being lily livered."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

"Well, look at yourself. You're smoking a chocolate cigarette and attempting to hit a girl that's tied up. You couldn't fight me, you lily livered bastard."

"What's that got to do with you?"

"My mother was British. After dad died, she left me all alone in the middle of bloody fucking England with everything I owned. She couldn't handle me, because she was a cowardly bitch with an unruly daughter."

"So you're insulting the British, and yet you sit here, a Brit yourself."

"Yep, and you still don't know my name, Mathew."

He glared at her, telling her that she struck a nerve. He rose from the table, threw the cigarette on the floor, stepped on it, and then walked out, slamming the door behind him. He was mumbling under his breath down the hallway. "Damn woman and her infuriating sarcasm."

"What are you bitching about now," the blond sitting on the couch asked.

"That woman refuses to answer anything."

Mello looked at one of the many television screens, showing her staring straight into the camera. It was almost as though she was watching him, challenging him, looking him in the eye. He smiled and answered, "Only because you're simply not doing it right." He got up from the couch and watched the woman for a moment longer, then walked to the door. He glanced back over his shoulder to where Matt stood. "I also need you to pick something up for me."


	2. Chapter 2

Mello walked into the small room she was in. He looked at her diminished form. He knew she was a fighter. He could see it when he watched Matt try to work information out of her. She wasn't someone who would easily be intimidated. Mello was alright with that. If anything, he accepted the challenge. After all, wasn't he the same way?

She was still watching the camera. He could tell by the angle of her head. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in a matted manor, still wet from her brief shower. Her clothes clung to her slumped silhouette. Her dark clothing gave into a darker demeanour, and Mello knew that this girl didn't have much to lose. It would be hard to break her.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asked. Her voice was bored, if not annoyed.

He stepped to the side and looked at the table where the pack of cigarettes that Matt had thrown still lies. The room didn't just smell like smoke, it smelled of chocolate. Mello licked his lips and smiled. He took a breath to steady his mind and approached the table.

She watched him set three things down: a Colt Magnum, a hunting knife, and a chocolate bar, on top of which he placed her abandoned pack of expensive cigarettes. He slouched in the chair that Matt had just left not ten minutes ago. "My name is Mello," he told her. "I'll be finishing for Matt."

"I suppose you're going to try to get the same information out of me?" she asked him with the same draw of boredom in her voice.

He just looked at her through his messy curtain of blonde hair. He then took out another bar of chocolate and tore open the wrapper. Mello ignored the squares that were designed for being broken into smaller pieces, and bit of the corner. She watched him devour that bar of chocolate delicately, with simplistic pleasure written on his face.

He casually threw the wrapper to the side and adjusted in his chair a little, revealing his pale, pointed face and dark blue eyes. "There are three ways we can do this," he muttered. He was quiet, almost whispering to her, although she caught every word he said. "You can be sweet about this, and earn the chocolate and your precious cigarettes back, you can be a pain in the ass and get yourself stabbed, or you can be an utter bitch and be shot. It's your choice and no matter what you choose, it makes very little difference to me."

"Then why bother with holding me here?" she spat.

He tapped the knife absentmindedly with a leather gloved hand. "I don't take chances," was the only answer he found suitable.

"You, like your pigheaded friend back there think I was sent here by Kira, don't you?" she asked. She laughed a bit before looking away from him. "Pathetic."

Mello placed his hand on the gun, the barrel facing her, showing her exactly what she was choosing. "I could say the same for you."

"Oh, you think you're going to shoot me?" she asked, noticing his game. "Go ahead. I'm not afraid of either of you."

He didn't expect her to be afraid of him. He was hoping she wasn't, actually. It made things more interesting.

He picked up the knife and played with the blade, running it through his fingers. He watched the way it reflected his leather before he angled it to show her light green eyes, fixed in a glare. The problem with Matt, well, he didn't think before he acted. He let her get to him. She played Matt like a fiddle. She would have a harder time with him, Mello concluded.

He placed the blade in his mouth and bit down, holding it in place with his teeth before he rose from his chair. He had been watching Matt, and one thing he liked was the stance that he had taken behind her. It gave him the upper hand. Mello rested his hands on her shoulders and began to methodically ease her tension. He could keep more control over her this way. She felt as though she was three feet high under his touch. Mello knew how to work this to his advantage.

"You too, huh?" she asked. "You could give me the deluxe spa treatment and I wouldn't be any different."

He knew she was only hiding her fear as he focused on the rhythm of his kneading. He hardly focused on the words coming out of her mouth. Her reaction to his silence was firm discomfort. He could feel her whole body tense up, and that made him smile. She was giving him even more control.

"I suppose asking you to stop touching me would be useless." Her shoulders were worked into pure tension, despite his efforts to ease it away. Her whole body was a bundle of tightened muscles, waiting to snap if he were to push on a pressure point. She would react; he had no doubt about it. Tied to that chair, who could guess what she would do?

"It would be as useless to you as it would be for me to ask you your name," he answered after taking the blade out of his mouth. He rested the edge of the knife in the hollow of her collar bone, exposed through the open fold of her coat. "I don't need your name. I don't even want it." He trailed along the exposed skin and toward her shoulder before he pressed the knife into her pale skin just enough to draw a bit of blood. She hissed in pain, but otherwise gave no indication that it hurt.

"Let me guess, you want me to want to give you my name, because you're letting me believe that if I give up whatever information you seek, you're not going to torture me. Does that sound right to you?" she asked.

"I don't even want you to want it. You can be a pain in my ass all you want. It's your choice, just as much as it's your consequence.' He thrust the blade a slight bit deeper, and she still didn't move away from him. "Is your pride really worth this much?"

"It's worth all of the squirming I'm going to cause you when you go to sleep tonight, if you sleep at all."

Mello threw the knife point first into the table's wooden grain before grabbing the Magnum. He cocked the gun and held it to her head, all without loosing his composure. She knew he wouldn't hesitate. It'd be a blessing if he ended her miserable existence.

Almost as soon as she thought those abysmal images of her body slouching in her binds, he smirked and said, "You want me to shoot you."

"You're smarter than you look," she answered.

He chuckled. "Surely things can't be that bad."

She sighed and answered, "Things can't be that great, either."

He looked down to see the blood dripping slowly from the wound he had inflicted. This wasn't going where he needed it. They were getting off topic. "I thought you had more fight in you than that." He traced the edges of the opening in her flesh lightly before applying pressure directly to the source with a short squeeze. She hissed again, but didn't cringe anymore than a slight flinch. "You do seem to be capable of bearing a lot of pain," he mentioned. "You must be mentally weak."

"I'm not mentally weak," she growled defensively. "I'm just not paranoid like you are."

"How can you call me paranoid?" he spat back at her.

"You have cameras everywhere, you had a girl kidnapped, frisked, and then doused in cold water for fear of being investigated by a mythical god."

She heard him chuckle behind her. "Before I ask you how you came to know that I am seeking Kira, I will have you know that Kira is no mythical god. You give the mere mortal too much credit. He's a fool; a fool who is living in a dream, one which is quickly turning into a nightmare."

"Is it turning on him, or are you the one who is faced with horror?"

He shoved a finger into her wound and got the reaction he so desired. Her body shuddered as she gasped in pain, her breathing quickly becoming shallow. "Doesn't matter to you, does it?"

"Seems to matter to you," she sputtered.

Mello walked back to his chair and watched her intently, placing the cocked gun back on the table, the barrel pointed once more in her direction. She could see his lust for power, as well as a mild factor of insanity in his eyes. He could see her determination and sheer strength of will. "What matters to you?" he asked

"Survival," she answered.

"Yet you're willing to throw that all away?" he asked. "I don't think survival matters to you at all. I think your pride comes before your life."

Sparks flew from her eyes as she glared.

"Why else would you refuse to give us any information?" he asked. "If you were acting to survive, you would have taken the chance that we might let you go."

"You don't take chances," she reminded him. "Why should I?"

"It might save your life," he whispered.

"Then again, it might condemn me."

He chuckled sadistically. "That it might," he answered all too willingly. "You're just going to have to trust me."

"I'd be walking myself to the hangman's noose," she growled, "if I were foolish enough to drop my guard around you. I'd might as well take that gun and put it in my mouth."

"Perception is an interesting thing, isn't it? The idea you get that someone is threatening your life, when instead, it is yourself that makes all the threats is truly amazing to me. You're blinded by your rage. Don't you understand that you decide your own fate?" he asked, his gesture fell to the scattered items on the table.

Her eyes followed his and fell upon her pack of cigarettes. She wanted one, needed one badly. The pain in her shoulder was unbearable. He was winning. He would kill her if she turned completely against him. He may have her cornered, but he is offering to step aside, if only for a moment long enough for her to merely glimpse the outside world. Was her pride worth a mere cigarette?

She hung her head in shame. "What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with your name."

"Miyoko, Usagi Miyoko," she answered.

"Alright, Miyoko," he started, "What is your age?"

"Seventeen," she answered.

"Where are you from?"

"I was born in Yokohama."

"That's not where you're from, is it?" He asked.

"Look, I just recently got back to this country."

"From where did you come?"

"I came from Winchester."

"I don't believe you're talking about New York," he stated in disbelief.

"What's it matter?" she asked.

"A great deal," he responded. He had just picked up the undertones of an accent much like his own, as well as Matt's. It was only because he was so accustomed now to hearing the Japanese speech patterns that he caught the way she put stress on her consonants more so than on her vowels.

"No, I'm not from New York. I'm from Winchester, England."

She watched a spark ignite in his eyes, but unlike Matt, he stayed relatively calm.

"Who did you come back to Japan with?"

"Derrick VanAllen came with me."

Mello's eyes widened. He knew that name. He knew the face of the damn kid, too. Derrick VanAllen was an orphan who resided at Wammy's for less than a year before he decided that he didn't conform to the "orphan Annie scene." Mello never liked the punk ass. He was always bragging about shoplifting, breaking into the kitchens, beating up some poor younger kid, or worse. Last he had heard of Derrick was that he had an accomplice, but Mello would have never suspected the damp girl that was giving him the death glare.

"You know Derrick, don't you?" she asked.

"I don't think I do," he lied. He would have bet an entire box of chocolate that he knew Derrick better than she ever would. He wouldn't tell her this. "How long have you been in Japan?"

"We came about a month before Kira's invasion."

"So about nine months?" he asked.

"That seems right."

"What do you know of a person called L?"

"I don't know anymore than the average person. I probably know less. I refuse to watch the news anymore. They're always going on about Kira this or Kira that. Why don't you just take a fan to the fire?"

"What about Near?" he asked.

"Nate River?" she asked.

Mello's eyes grew wide. How could she have known his old rival without knowing about L?

"Shit, I bumped into him one day. Actually, Derrick bumped into him. I just happened to be there. He started going on about one thing and another like they were old friends. He introduced himself to me as Near, but I never liked the kid. He always rubbed me the wrong way. I find him flat out annoying."

"Was he too childish for you?" Mello asked.

"Too innocent," she answered, "so in a way, I guess."

Mello stared at her for a while, thinking of what to make of her answers. He didn't seem to recognize her at all, and he was pretty good with faces, but if she knew Near, who's to say he didn't tell her anything about him as well?

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He chose to ignore her question. "Why were you in Winchester, if you were born here?"

"My mother has family in Yorkshire. After my father died, she got tired of me. We never saw eye to eye, so she dumped me at some catholic orphanage."

"Mother Mary Mirvish's Home for Girls," he commented.

"Yeah, she dumped me there."

"How long did you stay?"

"I stayed long enough to see her drive away."

"When did you meet Derrick?"

"I met him an hour later," she answered.

"He just offered to travel with you?"

"No, I kicked his ass."

Mello stared at her for a moment. "What provoked your attack?" "He did."

"What did he do?" Mello arched an eyebrow.

"He was following me," she answered.

He watched her glance to the side. He guessed that Derrick intended to rape the poor girl. It would have been just like him, to take advantage of her like that. Derrick had the idea that everyone was weaker than him. Miyoko seemed to be different than Derrick was. She didn't underestimate her enemy, nor did she see either of them as inferior. She was cocky, though, and had more sass than was cared for, but wasn't arrogant. She may hate Mello, but she respected the fact that he could hurt her. He watched Miyoko for some time; she seemed to have pieced Derrick's intention together a long time ago, if she was this cautious.

"Why did you agree to go with him?" Mello's voice was getting softer as he wondered what means of insanity drove her to accompany a psychopath.

"He was right; being alone meant I was vulnerable." She let out a sigh. "Look, if you don't know the ass hole, why are you drilling into it?"

"I find it strange that a girl would agree to travel with someone they just met off the street who provoked an attack."

"I didn't want to. I did it for my own survival." Her tone went from ice to fire.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, taking her hint to change the subject.

"Derrick and I were fighting again; sparring to keep our skills up."

"Why do you need to keep your fighting skills up?"

"In case I ran into fuckers like you," she spat. "Now let me finish. He asked me if I thought Kira would be caught, and I told him that I would bet anything that Kira would be caught by this summer, with all the police and L on the case." She ignored Mello's look of disgust. "Well, summer came and he dumped me a mile away from here."

"He took it that you had bet your life?"

He asked himself over and over, 'What did it matter?' but he couldn't get it out of his head. It was no mere coincidence that she was here, in the same place he was, after being in the same place he started. Could this just be Derrick's idea of a sick joke? How would he even know Mello was there?

"I don't know. Derrick's a sick person. He does stuff like this all the time. I've learned not to depend on him for anything. He's simply there to discourage anyone from hurting me."

"He controls you, doesn't he?"

"Do you honestly thing someone could control me?"

"If it were someone like that, then yes. I wouldn't put it past him to manipulate you into doing what he wants."

"You talk like you know him," she glared. "You're lying. I think there's more to it." She tilted her head up to look at him.

He glared at her.

"Your beef with him is your own. I don't give a damn," she shrugged, which was followed shortly by the grimace of pain.

"Why did he dump you here?"

"Ask him yourself. I don't have a clue."

Mello got up out of his chair and untied her. "I don't think I will."

The ropes fell around her loosely. The first thing she did was grab the pack of cigarettes, although it caused a lot of pain in her shoulder. "Do you have a lighter?" She asked, pulling a thin stick from the pack.

Mello dug in his pocket to pull a silver lighter out. He threw it to her, and she caught it. "I put yours back together." He sat back down.

"The shattered the fluid cartridge."

"No they didn't."

She shrugged her shoulders, to get a sharp sting of pain that she hid from him, and lit the cigarette. The room was filled once more with the smell of smoke and chocolate as her nerves relaxed, and the pain in her shoulder seemed to ebb away ever so slightly.

He watched her close her eyes and smile in pure pleasure as the nicotine hit her brain like a Prozac. He heard the front door slam, telling him his time was up. He glanced at the bar of chocolate, her reward, which lay untouched. 'She didn't even want the chocolate. She did this just for a cigarette. Clever, Derrick, very clever.'

She watched him walk out with a smirk on his face. The cigarettes were his device to control her, a device which he had now passed over to Mello. 'I would have never guessed that I would ever find anything he did useful,' Mello thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Matt walked in the door, and before two seconds had passed he saw Mello walk into the hallway. "Well?" he asked.

Mello leaned against the wall. "She has nothing to do with Kira, or L at all."

"What about Near?" Matt asked, noticing that Mello had left him out.

"That's where it got interesting. Do you remember Derrick VanAllen?"

"Wasn't he that red head punk ass back from Wammy, the one who used to break into everything or pick on everyone?"

Mello nodded.

"What does he have to do with her knowing Near?"

"Do you remember how Nate used to look at Derrick and think he was the coolest shit that ever walked the earth?"

"He only thought that because he was too blind to see that Derrick was a criminal. All he saw was the candy or the toys that Derrick had."

"The last thing I heard about Derrick before I left Wammy's was that he had himself an accomplice."

"I heard that too. Actually, Nate was the one who confirmed it. He seemed to have a little crush on her. 'Ah she was so smart, and she smelled of chocolate.' It was kind of pathetic."

"She's sitting in there, smoking a cigarette."

"She doesn't seem the type to just idly comply with someone like Derrick."

"He used those cigarettes to control her. There's no way she could afford them on her own. They're imported from Switzerland."

"Why would he buy her really expensive cigarettes?"

"He probably knew she couldn't afford them on her own, and I bet she wouldn't have wanted to go back to smoking what ever it was she was buying for herself."

"I can understand why," Matt answered, "They're really smooth. Did she tell you all of this herself?"

" No, she doesn't think he's controlling her at all. She doesn't realize that they aren't just gifts that he gives her. Derrick doesn't give gifts without reason. He always has a purpose, usually to buy whoever's favour in order to use them. Did you get it?" Mello asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Matt answered to Mello's hypothesis. "Why did you ask me to buy this?" He held up the small plastic bag.

"You're going to use it on Miss Miyoko."

"She told you her name?" Matt asked.

"She told me everything."

"How am I going to use it without her noticing?"

Mello threw a roll of gauze at him. "You'll find I've planned that out for you."

Matt stepped into the room to see her leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette, just as Mello said she was. "So you're back for more," she stated.

"Sit on the table," he ordered. He held up the roll of gauze to show her that he wasn't going to hurt her and set the bag aside.

"What's in the bag?" she asked.

"First aid supplies," he answered.

"You just went to get first aid, before you knew he would have stabbed me?"

"Mello's weird like that. He plans shit out."

"I can tell."

"Drop your coat, take off your shirt, and sit on the table.

"Whoa bucky, could you come onto me any stronger?"

Matt pulled out a gun. "I could just kill you."

"Do it," she dared him. "I bet you won't."

He put the gun away. "You bet your life," he stated. Mello would shoot _him_ if he shot her. "Just take them off."

She flicked the bud to the cement floor before she shrugged her coat off; he heard something hard hit the wood. He bent over to pick it up as she peeled off her tank top. Inside the right pocket was a knife, one that she could have easily shoved into his chest when he pulled her from the shower. She didn't. He looked from the small weapon to the girl, sitting on the table with her back toward him. He looked up at the camera and knew Mello was watching her. Matt wondered aimlessly if it was worth seeing.

He pressed a warm cloth to her wound and began to gently dab at the semidry blood that had gone very far down her chest. She slapped him for getting too close to her breast, but otherwise continued without making a fuss. Matt opened the small box that was in the bag and pulled out the contents: a very tiny microchip. It was normally implanted in dogs and cats, but would do well here, Matt concluded. Mello had made the incision deep enough.

Matt dropped the chip into her wound and began to wrap the gauze around her torso and arm. Mello made it an awkward place to administer first aid to.

"What did you put in there?" she asked when he had finished, clasping her hand over the bandage.

He knew she wouldn't feel it without causing herself pain. "I put antibacterial cream on it."

She felt around, satisfied that he didn't dose her with poison. "Can I go now?"

"No," he answered, walking out of the small room.

She shuffled to put her clothes on and hastily run after him. "Why not, you got your answers. What do you plan on doing with me?"

"I have a personal score to settle. As for Mello, well I can't tell you why he wants you here. I trust him though, as much as any one person can."

"What do you mean; you have s personal score to settle?"

"Let's just say it's personal, and leave it at that." Matt walked away from her, leaving her to stand in the hallway. He felt a churn of disgust, knowing that she was the one who was running with Derrick VanAllen. He now had no respect for her whatsoever. He would have done anything to kick that boy's ass when he knew him. God knows what he's done to her, or what she herself was capable of doing. No one would fare well if they ran with him for so long.

Matt walked into the room that held all of the security monitors. Mello looked up at him, and then looked past him. Matt watched her walk in behind him on a monitor that displayed the hallway.

She brushed past him and walked toward the couch, addressing Mello. "Why are you keeping me here?"

"I can't take the chance of you telling anyone where I am, and since you expressed that you knew what I was doing here, it would be a risk for you to run back to where ever you're from and tell someone just to have word get to Kira that we're here and hunting him down."

"Who would I tell?" she asked. "The only person I know here is someone you said you'd never heard of, who doesn't give a damn about the goings on of Kira."

"I don't know him, but I can't risk you going to Nate about this."

"Why would I go near that kid?" she asked. "He bugs the shit out of me."

"I'm aware of that, but I know that Near had an obsession with Derrick, simply because Derrick fooled him. That was all Derrick did."

"You said you didn't know him."

"I refrained from talking to him. Sure, he was smart, but he didn't care for using his head too much. He was at Wammy's with us. He always brought Nate some sweet or another or a robot figure. It hid from Nate, the fact that Derrick was a monster. I suspect it's no different for you, is it? Always bringing you something, I suppose."

"He does nothing for me," she spat. "Do you think I'd be blinded by his gestures?"

"Then where do you get your cigarettes, I wonder?"

"Just because he buys me imported cigarettes, you think he's controlling me?"

"How long can you go without one?" he asked in return. He arched a blonde eyebrow at her, waiting for her response.

She lowered her head. "I can go as long as I want to."

"In other words, not very long?" he clarified. "Would you ever go back to using any other brand?"

"That doesn't control me."

"It's amazing how blinded you are, just as Nate was."

She sat down on the arm of the sofa, watching Mello's every move. "Why do you care if I'm controlled by him or not; why does it matter?"

"I care because it bothers me, simply because of the person I saw in him." He spoke as though he was bored with their conversation.

"He's no patron saint," she admitted.

"Hell, I'm no patron saint, but I'm a better person than he is."

"That's a lot of pride you're showing. You're verging on arrogance."

Mello's response was to remove a chocolate bar from its wrapper and bite off the corner. She watched him eat it in silence. Once he had finished the bar, he spoke again. "I may have pride, but I also have decency."

"I beg to differ."

"I think you know I'm right."

She knew he was. He hadn't tried to take advantage of her; he hadn't tried to force himself upon her. Every time Derrick found the drink he was thrusting his hands up her shirt. It wasn't just the alcohol that was responsible for the following morning's headache. He gave her just as many bruises as she gave him.

"Honestly, is it that bad if we want you to stay here?" Mello asked.

"What is this, we?" Matt asked. "I want nothing to do with her." His voice gave away his hatred that she inherited by association.

Mello glared at Matt shortly. "Is it bad that I want you here?"

"Yeah; I don't like being held against my will for anything."

"Think of this as revenge."

She sighed, her eyes flickering to Matt. "I guess if kicking Derrick's ass means that much to you, who am I to deny that?"

Mello just looked into blank space. He had found how to get to her, and in such a short amount of time. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking she'd be a challenge. Either way, he didn't know why he wanted to extract revenge for something that hardly mattered to him, especially since L had favoured Near over him. Perhaps it was because of the girl herself. Who knew? He didn't.

"You're staying here. It's late, and you should be shown your room."

"I sure as hell am not going to cater to her," Matt spoke.

"I'm not asking you to." Mello got off the couch and grabbed her by the arm.

She protested the contact immediately. His grip was tightened accordingly, yet respectful. He wasn't bruising her, he was just guiding her. She eased her muscles and he let go; another lesson that compliance would gain her mercy.

He led her into a small room that had only a bed and a closet, which was empty. This brought up a question in her mind. "What am I going to do about all of my things?"

"You don't need much, some clothing, maybe."

"Do you expect me to sleep in wet clothing?" she asked.

He walked out of the room, holding a finger up to show her that he'd be back. Once he returned, he threw a baggy tee shirt that was faded with date. "It's either that or nothing at all," he told her, with a smirk on his face. He then pointed to a corner, showing her a video camera. He grinned devilishly. "The blind spot is right beneath it."

"I could have told you that," she answered. She now knew that he watched the whole first aide process with Matt, who had done nothing to shield her from the camera.

"Sweet dreams," he taunted. He shut the door behind him as he walked out of her new room.

"What's the real reason you want her to stay?" Matt asked. "Kicking Derrick's ass is something I would do, not you."

"Watch, and you will see," Mello answered.


	4. Chapter 4

Miyoko woke with the feeling that she had been sparring with Derrick for hours last night, and it wasn't until she tried to remember their fight that she realized she wasn't anywhere near Derrick at all. She didn't know if it was something to swear at, or a blessing in disguise. All those things they said about him last night were true. He was a vile person who managed to make the world a darker place. He was exactly the kind of person Kira would have killed.

Derrick often joked about that. "Oh, I'm sure Kira will be knocking on my door anytime now," he would say.

She shook her head. "Fucking bastard, it's his fault I'm in this mess to begin with. I should have killed him when I had the chance." Her voice was merely a whisper

"You'd have done us all a favour," Mello told her as he stepped through the door.

She immediately pulled the blankets around her to cover herself. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she realized that it was a forced habit. "What do you want?" she hissed. It was too early for her to deal with their shit.

Mello held up a duffle bag and tossed it to her. "He really isn't that hard to find," he said with a grin.

She hadn't a clue what he was talking about, until she looked into the bag. She pulled the zipper. Underneath the synthetic fabric was a pile of her clothing, hastily shoved inside. On top of the pile were two packs of cigarettes. She looked back up at the blond man who stood before her, smirking. "How'd you get this?" "The police will believe anything. I had Matt go and tell them his sister was being abused, and that her boyfriend had all of her stuff, but she won't tell him where he lives. Derrick's on file for quite a few misdemeanours, isn't he?"

"For someone who doesn't know him very well, you don't sound surprised."

He didn't allow his expression to change. "I know his type," was all he answered. He didn't even look away.

"So you have the balls to lie to my face," she commented. "That's cool."

His hand twitched in the direction of the magnum that was visible in his waist band. Other than that, she could see no emotion.

"I don't care how you know Derrick, but you can't keep lying to me if you can't keep your façade straight."

He glared her down. "For someone who is so intent on her own survival, you're still willing to endanger your life. I'm sure that living with an urchin such as Derrick will do this to anyone, but I wouldn't imagine such an extreme disregard for one's own life to be the result. You play with fire, Miyoko."

He turned and walked out the door, which slammed behind him. She knew that he avoided lying this time, but he was adding to it. That just irked her. Sure, she was his hostage and probably didn't merit his whole life's story, but that didn't necessarily mean that he had to lie to her. So she knew Derrick. Sure, he went to Wammy. If Mello knew Near, then he had to know Derrick. He was Near's idol. Someone that childish would embellish their hero to be this great person, and tell everyone about it. 'Even I can piece that together,' she thought. 'I'll have to ask Derrick about Mello when I get back.'

She looked at the duffle back. 'If I get back at all.'

Not ten minutes had passed when she walked out the door in a tank top and another pair of baggy jeans. They clung to her hips, but that's all. She heard voices down one end of the hallway. It was towards the front of the building. She knew she came in through the back. If these guys were British, then they'd prefer a traditional layout. So, what she was looking for would be found in the back of the building.

She turned left down the hallway and poked her head into several doorways. She ran into no one, and assumed that the men who had jumped her were simply there for a party, or something of the sort. It wasn't her business. If she never saw them again, well, they'd live, for one thing.

She finally found what she was looking for: the kitchen. The fridge was packed with chocolate and booze. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. Those guys are strange, but don't they eat anything with substantial nutrition?

She shuffled through cupboards where she found more sweets and alcohol. 'At least they're committed to something,' she thought. She also found several cartons of cheep cigarettes, which didn't help her at all. She knew where to go when she ran out, though, even though Mello was right about her dislike of any other brand of fags. Several cupboards were completely bare, as well as the pantry that was across from the fridge. Plates, bowls, cups, pots, pans, silverware; all found where one would look for them, but they were seemingly useless. 'What a waste of money,' she thought.

She heard the rustle of plastic bags behind her. Before she turned around to investigate, she heard an explanation. "We're normally clean by Saturday." By now she knew that it was Matt who spoke, not Mello, and that he was less annoyed than he was last night.

"Good to know," she mumbled. She tore through the plastic bags, looking for anything that looked decent enough to satisfy her hunger.

~*~ x X x ~*~

She stepped outside with the agitated brunette known as Matt for her first dose of nicotine of the day. She noticed that there was an alarmingly large pile of chocolate boxes to the side of the building. 'At that rate, he's going to develop diabetes before he's thirty.' There was no point voicing this concern aloud. Matt was severely irked to know that he would be her appointed escort every time she wanted a cigarette, and had probably had the same thoughts. He flicked his lighter into life and slowly lit his own fag.

They both exhaled, seeming to sigh as the stress of the day's beginning was being released. He glanced at her. "Why the hell would you go to a building in the middle of nowhere? Don't you think it's dangerous for a girl to go somewhere by herself?"

"You know you're implying that you're out here, in the middle of nowhere, for a reason, don't you?"

"Everything has a reason," he chided.

"Guess the hunt for Kira isn't a clean fight, then." She leaned against the outer wall and took another long dreg off the smouldering cigarette.

"You're implying we're criminals," he answered, the annoyance clear in his voice.

"No, it's perfectly legal to hold women hostage, stab them, and carry a gun everywhere." Her words were poisoned with sarcasm.

He grabbed her cigarette and flicked it to the ground, then flung her into the threshold. His patience had run out. He silently cursed Mello under his breath. Why couldn't they just kill the girl? She wasn't useful. She had no connection to Kira. She just had Derrick, the dumb bastard. 'How he got into Wammy's I will never understand. If he had a brain at all, he didn't use it. Was a life of purposeless crime really that important?' He couldn't really trash Derrick too much for his crimes. Mello was just as guilty, and Matt was guilty by association. At least Mello had a purpose. What was Derrick trying to prove, that he was a punk ass; that he could live on his own; that he wasn't "just another orphan Annie?"

Mello didn't address him as he walked into the room. He was lounging on the couch, nonchalantly looking at the two as they made their entrance. Matt led her around the couch that Mello was seated on to face him, forcing her to share his spotlight. He looked at Miyoko, then Matt without any flicker of visible thought. Matt knew this was usual, and could see that it bothered Miyoko.

She watched him closely, taking a mental note of every move he made, every bite he took of the chocolate he held in his left hand, every time he effortlessly draped his arm over the back of the couch, every word he spoke to Matt. She heard, but did no listening. She caught phrases and words, but pushed them aside. She concentrated on his speech patterns, which were unusual, as though he had the accent of Winchester mixed with something else, possibly where he might have been from, had he been abandoned at the orphanage at a later time in his life. His eyes would flicker to her, but she didn't dare look away. She would focus on something else; the way he sat, the way he lazily blinked when he finished speaking, or the sounds of his sighs when Matt told him something that was a grievance. Once she met his gaze, and he held hers. It seemed as though he were challenging her, and she was determined to make it worth his while.

Mello rose from the couch (facing the many monitors that were glowing) and walked out of the room. Matt took his place. "Move," he commanded. She sat down on the couch, as far away from him as she could, and leaned against the arm. Matt seemed to concentrate on the monitors, but after a moment he took out a hand held video game and immediately became immersed in the action he controlled.

He didn't have as many notable mannerisms that she could detect. He was pretty satisfied with his game, and every few minutes he would glance at the wall of screens before him, keeping with his task.

While he was halfway through his three minute cycle of video games and glances, she got up from the couch and walked away from him. She thought of what she was going to do with her time, as the days would be very long if this was all they did. What could Mello be doing, while he left his friend to watch over the place?

She shook her head and decided she didn't care. She pushed open the door to her room and plopped on the bed. The duffle bag fell to the floor. She glanced at it, wondering if she should bother to pick it up. Where would she put her things? There was a closet on the far wall away from the door. There was a bare nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. She had a window sill to utilize. The room was otherwise empty. She sighed. This would be a miserable existence indeed.

Still laying on her stomach, she pulled her oversized coat to her. She jammed her hand into the pocket and swore. It was gone. She walked back into the room they held her in, and scoured the floor and few surfaces until she found it (under a shelf that was empty). She held the knife in her hand. She flipped off the camera in the corner of the room and walked out. He wasn't looking.

She shoved the knife into her pocket before the next scheduled glance would take place, and then walked back into her room. When she walked by, she heard his voice ask, "What were you doing?"

"Looking for something."

"What were you looking for?"

"My knife."

He hesitated before he asked, "Did you find it?"

"Are you still breathing?" she asked, hoping he would assume it was a no.

His chuckle assured her that he did. She would wait until nightfall. That was the only chance she had, and if Mello slept with that damn magnum, she was screwed.


	5. Chapter 5

She ran into the forest, covered in the blood of her captors, clutching Mello's bag. She was wrong to think that Mello slept without his gun; her arm was bleeding heavily because of it. She clutched the wound tightly as she ran, trying to stem the blood flow as her heart rate picked up. If she didn't stop bleeding, she would surely pass out.

She leaned against a tree once she was certain she had gotten a safe distance away from their hide out. She shed her trench coat, and then pulled her shirt over her head to revealing a new one underneath. She tore the blood soaked fabric in long shreds. Once they were securely, if not haphazardly tied to her arm, she continued at a steadier pace away from their little piece of hell after shoving herself back into her coat.

'Who do they think they are, holding me like an animal? How could they expect me to stay there?'

Suddenly her shoulder stung with intense pain. She cried out into the night and dropped to her knees, clutching the still healing wound. She looked into the sky and began counting stars until the pain subsided. "Fifty four," she whispered.

She lowered her hand back to the bullet wound and pulled the bullet out with her forefinger and thumb. She swore loudly to the sky, startling several birds and a squirrel. She pocketed the small piece of copper and redid her makeshift bandages.

She was panting heavily from the pain. Spots had appeared before her eyes, and she made the bleeding worse. There wasn't a chance she could continue onward. Not now that she was loosing blood quickly. She was also risking infection. She had to get back to Yokohama soon.

She sat against a tree. 'What if I'm closer to Tokyo than Yokohama, and am heading in the wrong direction?' she wondered. This was risky business, now that she was injured. Surviving would have been a challenge on its own if she were in good health. Now, it was nearly impossible.

~*~x X x~*~

Mello leaned over his dresser and rummaged for an old shirt to stem his bleeding. He was lucky she spotted his gun before she got in any serious blows. His arm hurt to move, but his shoulder would be fine. It was payback, he thought. They both had a wound in their right shoulder now. His was much deeper, and far more serious, but hers was tortured and stressed before treated.

He wondered what had provoked her attack. It didn't dawn on him that Matt could have been in danger until he had finished dressing his wound. He sprinted into the brunette's bedroom, to find him lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

Mello's mind raced. His eyes darted around. His thoughts were clouded. He ran back into his bedroom to get what was left of his first aide kit and brought it to his fallen friend. He checked for a pulse; he couldn't get one. Matt wasn't breathing, either. His chest didn't rise or fall; no sound came from his lips. There wasn't a stir of breath either.

"Shit!" Mello hissed. He evaluated Matt's wounds. She had landed two to the chest, one to his lower arm. He tried to fight back. Derrick taught her well, if this is what Matt could be reduced to. If there was any chance of revival, CPR would be extremely painful and very dangerous. Mello could do more damage than was already done, if he wasn't careful.

Mello traced one would with his gloved finger. He jumped as Matt flinched away from his touch, and then sighed with relief. He took out his knife and sliced the fabric away from Matt's skin. He quickly administered the aide his friend needed to survive.

Matt slid in and out of consciousness. He had lost so much blood in fifteen minutes. It took twice as long just to get all of the wounds cleaned and dressed. Mello lowered matt back onto his bed.

"Where is she?" he whispered faintly.

Mello hadn't thought to check for her location. In fact, he had almost forgotten he had the chip implanted in her. Matt's wellbeing was more important. "I don't know."

"Tokyo is closer," he whispered, before passing out again. It was Mello's cue to leave, as there was nothing more he could do but allow him to rest. Matt was only faintly aware of the door closing.

Mello bent over the monitor, scouring the satellite map. He could see the little coloured dot that marked her position, but she was foolishly headed to Yokohama. He wondered the reason for this briefly before turning his back.

N N N

She had spent three days in the wilderness between the middle of nowhere and Yokohama. She now found herself on Jenji's doorstep, in the dark of the wee hours of the morning. She nearly kicked the door off its frame as she entered his apartment, and some Japanese girl screamed as she tried to cover herself. She was nude from the waist up.

"Nice, honey," she chided. "Are you wearing underwear?" She dropped her coat to the floor, as well as the duffle bag.

Jenji looked startled to see her, all while shuffling into his pants again. His brown eyes were wide enough to make him look, well, slightly less Asian. His skin tone still gave him away. "Where've you been?" he asked, not at all disturbed at what she had just walked into.

"Kicking Derrick's ass at a bet," she answered. The broad ran into the other room, clutching a bright pastel coloured brazier and the gathered fabric of what Miyoko could tell was a skanky shirt. "Don't tell me that's a hooker," she sighed, as she sat in a chair at the other end of the room.

"Her?" he asked. "No, that's Tatsuki. I met her at a party last night."

"Does _Tatsuki_ have a last name?" she asked.

"I'm sure she does," he answered, being his usual smart ass self. "What was this bet?" He had stopped adjusting himself, and was seated in a comically serious manner as though she hadn't witnessed the vulgar acts of his personal life a moment prior.

"I bet Kira would be behind bars by now," she sighed.

Jenji's eyes lowered to her arm, "He shot you before you left?"

"Makes things interesting," she lied.

"We should get that checked out," he warned.

'Here we go,' she thought. "Would you cut out the big brother thing, Jenji? I just walked in on your one night stand."

She heard squealing behind her. "You said you loved me!"

Miyoko glared at the idiot sleaze before her. "You're purely stupid," she sighed.

"Get out, skank," he barked, sensing the night was ruined beyond salvageable means. She obeyed him, tears welling in her eyes, asking to no one why this always happened to her. Miyoko barked in laughter and hoped she'd heard.

"Seriously, Miyo, we need to get you to a doctor or something. You'll bleed to death or get an infection."

"You worry too much, I'll be fine. It's nearly healed by now. It's been three days already."

Jenji looked at her with concern. "He deserted you out there nearly a week ago. It's been five days."

Miyoko knew she had made a mistake.

"Someone else shot you. What happened to you out there, Mi?"

"Don't worry yourself so much, mom."

Jenji pulled out a knife. "Don't make me torture it out of you," he warned.

He was a master at torturing people. If Derrick ever needed information, he called Jenji. They went back for years, those two. One time, Jenji had carved his alias into someone's finger tips. It will forever read SHANK. She could hear the screams outside. Of course the guys made sure she had no part of it. They were only indecent to her when they were drunk. No, Derrick was the only indecent one.

"Dude, nothing happened! Back off, you crazy ass wipe."

He arched an eyebrow. "If I ever find who did that to you, I'll kill them. Mark my words, Miyo."

"Alright, they're marked. Just chill out, and put that away."

He sighed and dropped the blade. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, Mi." He looked as though he was going to say something else, and she knew what it was. _I'm not Derrick._ He looked up at her, and saw her now sullen expression. "You're probably tired."

"Yeah," she answered.

"Come on, let's get you settled in."

"Do you know when D-, when he'll be by?" she asked. He'll flip shit when he sees her bullet hole. She'd like to be able to heal enough to pass it off as something less major by the time she had to face him again.

"No, I don't. You know as well as I do that he only comes by when it suits him. I'm surprised he hasn't been by yet, with you gone. He's normally bored by now."

She swore under her breath. "He could be by any day now."

"You're not going home with him for a while. He's been drinking heavily lately."

"Thanks for the heads up, but I swear, you bring any broads home and I'll damage your dating reputation for life."

"You're a pain in the ass." He smiled, in spite of her hindrance to his personal life. "You remember where everything is, Mi?"

"Yeah, I'm here all the time."

'You were here all the time,' he thought, 'before Derrick became a monster.'

She saw his thoughts in his eyes and cleared her throat. "Will you go out and get some bandages while I shower?" she asked.

He turned around and left; she took that as a yes.

It didn't take long for her to shower, and Jenji was back by the time she got out. He helped her get dressed, then wrapped her arm with the new gauze. "Who ever did this didn't get a good shot, did they?"

"He was sleeping," she answered.

"Care to tell me who he is?" Jenji asked.

"No, I don't, really." She looked away.

"Why are you protecting him?" Jenji asked.

She looked into his eyes. "He knows about Derrick, and everything he does, everything he did."

"Why would you tell him something like that?" Jenji asked.

"You idiot," she muttered. "I didn't have to tell him. He already knew."

"Is this one of those things where I won't understand it until you tell me the whole story, but you're not going to give it all to me?"

She sighed. "You're an ass. I was out there, with no clue where I was. I found this building, scoped it out, they attacked me, and thought I was someone sent by Kira, of all people."

"What the hell?"

"That's what I was thinking. They frisk me, throw me into a cold shower, and some jack ass interrogates me, the damn git. Then he has the nerve to steal a cigarette from me." She took one out of her pocket at that time and lit it before continuing. "Then he storms off, because I wouldn't tell him my name. He had me tied to a chair and couldn't even get me to tell him that much, the pussy."

"You've been around me too long," Jenji smirked.

She drew another dreg before continuing. "Well, by then I was pissed off. He smoked my fag, my imported cigarettes, and didn't even offer me one. So I was craving like no tomorrow. He was replaced by another bastard who puts a bar of chocolate, a knife, and a gun on the table in front of me. Says I can pick my own fate, he does. Not to mention they're fucking Brits." She puffed again. Smoke clouded the space between them.

"In league with L?"

"Yeah, he asked me about him, as well as some kid named Nate River. That's how he knew about Derrick. I said his name."

"You know better than to do that, Mi," Jenji scolded.

"Shut up dude, he stabbed me!" Some ash fell from the charred ember glowing at the end of her lit cigarette.

"You forgot to mention that! Is this the same bastard who shot you?" He yelled.

"I'm getting there; chill out, swine. I told him about this time that Derrick and I were hanging out and this kid came up and introduced himself to us as Near. I thought it was a stupid name anyway. He annoyed the piss out of me. Then he started asking me a shit load of questions."

"Sounds like an invasive moron."

"Brilliant son of a bitch, actually," she confessed, then inhaled another cloud of smoke.

"Why'd you give up the information?"

"He said he'd give me my cigs back."

"You betrayed Derrick for a fag?"

"We both know he'd do the same thing to either of us. We live for survival. I really needed a cigarette."

Jenji sighed. "Unfortunately, this is true."

They shared a brief moment of silence, which was brought to a halt. The door slammed against the wall as it was thrust open. "Whers the pa'ry, ya douche?"

Derrick was drunk again.


	6. Chapter 6

It didn't take long for the music to be blared and the fridge to slam. No doubt he had a can of beer and was searching for Jenji. "Dude, get out here!"

"Stay," Jenji whispered. "With any luck I can keep him out of here. Sleep, if you can." He darted to the door and looked back at her. She nodded, telling him he understood. He reached for the door knob, which was already turning. Her luck had just run out.

"Dude, where's your party spirit?"

Jenji, who had been standing at the door, was thrown back when Derrick burst through the door. It didn't take him long to see her.

"Sup, skank? Just thought you'd see Jenji first, did you? What, no love for the man who saved your life single handed? You've been holding out on me for too long, bitch. You've been running to his bed behind my back for far too long."

She was amazed at the lies he told himself when he was drunk. Her cigarette fell to the floor. She quickly smashed it out, before a fire started and killed them all.

"Dude, she just got here," Jenji protested.

"Right, that's why she had time to take a shower, or did it rain on her hair without making her clothes wet?"

"Alright, she's been here for twenty minutes. I haven't been sleeping with her. She actually interrupted my go with another girl."

"Yeah, what was her name, Jenji?" Miyoko asked.

"Yeah, Jenji, what was her name?" Derrick mocked.

"Damn, uh, Tatsuki. Yeah. Cute little thing, she was. I met her at a party."

"You could go to a party without me?" Derrick started advancing on Jenji. "I thought you told me to meet you at your place, midnight, for a wild time. Just walk out on me, eh?"

"It's four in the morning, Derrick. You didn't show. I was half an hour late."

Derrick looked at his watch. "You didn't call me."

"Straight to voicemail," Jenji answered.

Derrick pulled his phone out. "It's not dead."

Jenji took the phone. "This isn't yours," he answered.

Derrick swore, and then punched Jenji. "You gave me the wrong phone at the party man! Who has my phone?"

He turned back on Miyoko. He nudged her arm with a lot more strength than was needed. "What happened to you?"

"She fell," Jenji interjected.

"Clumsy bitch, what'd I tell you? Stay on your feet." He waited for an answer from her. "What am I not good enough to talk to anymore? Am I interrupting a special night?"

Mello and Matt were right. She would have done the world a favour. She reached into her pocket and felt the cold knife. She could do it. He was so drunk; he probably wouldn't even feel the pain.

"What'cha got there, whore? Somethin' in yer pocket more interesting than I am?" He shoved her back onto the mattress. The bandages slid down, just far enough for the wound to be revealed.

"You lying skank. I know that wound when I see it. You've been shot." He swung at her and missed, his punch reverberating off the springs of the bed.

'Here we go again,' she thought. Throwing her weight to her uninjured shoulder, she kicked him with her right leg. Her boot collided into his sternum solidly as he was forced to stumble back away from her.

"Oi, you really feel like fighting, bitch?" He pulled out a gun, and then cocked it. "You've been shot once already, how 'bout another one, just to put you in your place?"

Jenji jumped on him from behind and Derrick dropped the gun. Derrick reacted by swinging in all directions and swearing up a storm.

"Run, Mi!" Jenji commanded.

"Yeah, protect your skank, Jen, just like you. She can fight for herself!"

She darted past them and out the door into the warm night. Her hair was still wet, which made the night colder. She dashed through the living room where the music still roared until she heard the front door slam behind her. Only then did she run, holding nothing back.

She made it into a gas station, where she slouched over and attempted to catch her breath. The entire time she had been running, she felt like Derrick was following her. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. She couldn't see his car, either. She'd been chancing glances behind her ever since she left Jenji's house.

She spotted a coffee machine. She'd left her duffle bag at Jenji's place. She didn't have a phone, either. He was the only other connection she had, beside's Derrick.

Up ahead at the counter she could see a dark hooded figure. It wasn't strange to see hoodies on people in the middle of Yokohama summers. People were just weird like that. He kept his head down as he walked past. Her eyes followed him to his car, which was red and sporty.

"Is there a bathroom in here?" she asked the man behind the counter. He pointed to where a small corridor was hidden beside one of those wall sized refrigerated drink displays.

She went into the bathroom and studied herself in the mirror. "I don't look too banged up," she told herself. She touched her shoulder, where Mello had injected the knife's blade into her. It had just begun to heal, and protested under her touch. She hadn't been easy on it.

She remembered the look of shock on his face when she raised her own blade above his head. She had even hesitated. He looked so frightened. That was what condemned her. She could have killed him, but she didn't have the guts. He instantly pulled the gun from under his pillow and aimed at her. It was only then, in the face of danger, could she embed the blade into his shoulder. She didn't do enough damage to kill him. He, in response to the pain, or simple reflex to being threatened, pulled the magnum's trigger.

Why was he so shocked? He ranted and raved about how dangerous Derrick was. Why should she be any less of a threat? He was holding her hostage, after all. Was there some code of conduct book somewhere that said captives could not, by any means, fight back? Or was there something more behind it? 'Could he actually believe he was doing me a favour, by shielding me from Derrick?' she asked herself. 'Why would he do that?'

She walked back out into the store and waved to the man as thanks.

"Miss," he called after her, just before she opened the door. "You dropped that notebook on the floor."

"Notebook?" she asked.

"There, by your feet."

She looked down, her hand still resting on the door. There was indeed a black notebook laying there. She picked it up and thumbed through the pages. They were all blank. "This isn't mine," she stated. She handed the book back to the man on the counter. "Throw it away for all I care."

The man who had passed her on his way out was still sitting in his car, and there was another in the driver's seat. They were both watching her as she passed, but otherwise paid her no notice once she was out of their sight. She saw something lighting up their vehicle from the inside, an electronic devise of sorts. She could hear muffled laughter as she walked away from the car.

She stood under a street light a few blocks away, and the red car from the gas station pulled up next to her. She looked at it, but the windows were tinted. She could see the figures of the two from the lit screen of what ever they were holding, but couldn't make out details. They were talking to each other.

"Not yet," was all she heard.

She started walking, and the car pulled ahead of her, taking off with a burst of speed. "They're in a hurry," she muttered.

She walked the streets of Yokohama for hours, weaving her way in and out of alley ways and streets, buying her time. She didn't have anywhere to go, so she could only wait. Jenji had sobriety on his side, but Derrick was the better fighter. There was no telling how this would fare. Miyoko wasn't really worried for Jenji. She knew that as survivors, they needed to look out for themselves first, each other second. If he was killed by Derrick, though, she'd have no where to go to get away from him. She'd have to kill him.

She couldn't even kill Mello. How could she kill someone who took her in and showed her how to survive?

She looked up at Jenji's door. Her feet had taken her back, seemingly to deem it a decent time to return. The house was quiet. There was no music to interrupt the silence. She wished there was. She glanced over her shoulder as she opened the door. She saw the same red sports car parked up the block.

She took in the scene as she stepped over the threshold. There were bullet holes in the wall. There were a few drops of blood here and there, but no way of knowing to whom they belonged. "Jenji?" she whispered.

There were chuckles from the bedroom she had left them in, and the laughter was cold as ice. "What, no concern for the man who took you in? I should have done away with you then," he sighed. "It's too late to go back now. I'll just have to finish what I started."

"Derrick," she cautioned. "Come on, man. Don't do this."

"You chose this for yourself."

She remembered Mello's interrogation method. "Surely there's a different way," she pleaded. She wasn't ready to have to do this now. She didn't know if he had more bullets, or how many he had already used. There could be one in the chamber for all she knew. If only she could get him to reason. There had to be the proverbial bar of chocolate somewhere in this mess.

"There isn't, Miyo. You've gone behind my back. I killed him, just for you. He was one of my best friends, but no one crosses me. There are no real friends in the world, Miyo. You've got no one but yourself."

"You have me," she whispered. A tear slid down her cheek. Jenji was the closest thing she had for a friend.

"I won't for long." She heard the bedsprings relieve themselves of their burden, and footfalls on the floor. Something heavy was dropped, and she prayed it was his gun. She had a chance if she could fight him; though with her shoulder, she didn't know if she still held any advantage.

"Derrick, don't do this, please. There has to be another way."

"You'd rather die than spend one night with me," he growled. "You've made that clear. Who shot you, Miyo?" he asked, rounding the door. "Who lodged a bullet into your arm? Come on, it had to be someone; who did this?"

"I did," a familiar voice growled.

She didn't dare glance over her shoulder; she could recognize that voice anywhere by now. Derrick's eyes lifted from her diminished form, now sunken to the floor, to the figure standing in the still open doorway.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"Come on, Derrick, don't you remember us?" She heard more footsteps as they entered the living room.

"Us; what is this, some kind of game? You whore, who are these men? More tricks you've been turning behind my back?"

"Oh, come now, Derrick, you don't have to shout at her. She isn't at fault here."

'What is he doing?' she asked herself. Her knuckles were white, clenched into a fist.

"I asked you a question. Who are you?"

She could hear the rustling of fabric, and a shadow crossed over the moonlight let in from a window. She knew by his shaggy haired outline which one it was.

"M-M-Mihael," Derrick stuttered.

She was so confused. Who was Mihael? He sounded so much like Mello.

Mihael laughed. "Now you remember, don't you? Don't forget Matt here. You remember him as well?"

"Heh, of course I do. You always were a punk, kid." Derrick had regained his arrogant tone, bracing for what ever fight they were prepared to give.

She heard the cocking of a gun and flinched, the pain in her shoulder flaring just from the sound.

"I'd watch that mouth of yours," Matt warned. "I always said it'd get you in trouble someday."

"Don't shoot him yet, Matt. Surely you'd like to have some fun with him first," Mihael teased.

"My pleasure," Matt replied. She heard him approach from behind her. He looked down at her, slumped on the floor in a heap, grimacing in pain. He sneered at her. "Pity, you made yourself seem so strong. It's only a gunshot wound. Really, you'll be fine. I'd get your things, if I were you. Quickly, too, before this turns into a blood bath for your friend." He stepped ahead of her, and she felt hands on her shoulder and waist.

"Where did you take the bag," Mello asked. He stepped beside her, bettering his stance to support her weight, and she could see that it was really him, and not someone else. She sighed, of course he wouldn't give her his name. Why didn't she think to use an alias?

"Bedroom," she croaked, feeling rather stupid for her mistake.

"Matt," he called.

The bag was thrown out into the living room. 'Why is he just standing there?' she thought. 'Did he really fear these guys, or is he just out of bullets?'

Mello gathered the bag, and then pulled her uninjured arm over his shoulder. "Come on," he whispered. He pulled her to her feet and guided her out the door. Once the door was shut, she heard the gun go off. An instant later came a cry of pain. Derrick wasn't dead, yet.

Mello opened the back door to the red car that had been following her around all morning. He slid in, dropping her bag on the floor, then pulled her into the back seat next to him before reaching over to shut the door. His scent of sweet chocolate and warm leather pressed against her as he retreated across the seat. She sank into the leather upholstery and sighed. There was a lot to mull over tonight. Jenji was dead, Derrick is going to die, she owes her life to the two men who threatened it not four days ago, she was wounded, and had no idea what she was going to do.

"Got a cigarette?" Mello asked her.

"Yeah," she answered. She pulled one out and handed it to him, passing him her silver lighter as well.

"Hand me another one," he whispered.

She sighed and did what she was told.

He put both to his lips and flicked the lighter into life. A sharp inhale and they were lit, and he passed one to her.

"I didn't know you smoked," she admitted.

"I don't," he answered. "Tonight has just been hell." They were just as smooth as Matt admitted they were, and Mello could see why Derrick would use them to keep her. Now the question was if Mello could continue to use them in the same manor.

"You have no idea," she murmured.

"I can't believe you went back to him," Mello sighed.

"I can't believe you followed me," she hissed.

Sensing her anger, he simply answered, "We knew you would."

"Then why-"

"I hoped you were smarter than that."

"I was," she answered. "I went to Jenji."

"We heard gunshots a short while after you left," Mello sighed.

"I already know he's-" She didn't finish. She leaned against the door, her injuries protesting. She hissed in pain.

"You never mentioned Jenji," Mello observed. "I thought Derrick was the only one."

"You thought he was the only what?"

"Friend you had," he admitted.

She inhaled on the cigarette he handed her. The butt tasted more like chocolate than it should. "Derrick isn't my friend," she confessed.

He inhaled a dreg, and exhaled before he responded. "I know."

"Why did you follow me?" she asked.

"Why did you run?"

"Answer me, Mello. I nearly killed you both."

"You hesitated," he replied. "You didn't want to kill me. Matt; I'm not so sure if you'd have killed him."

"I thought I did," she admitted.

"As did I," he sighed.

"That's why you followed me?" she asked.

"No," he answered. He sounded as though he didn't want to talk about it.

They took another hit, and he sighed.

"How'd you find me?" she asked.

"You went southwest," Mello answered. "Were you really sleeping with that guy?"

"No, I wasn't," she answered. Her voice was distant.

The smoke was fuming up the car; Mello leaned over her again and rolled down her window with a flick of the switch that was glowing in the dark. Once again her senses met his sweet scent that now mingling with the thinning smoke that clung to the air. She inhaled him deeply, as if his scent alone could wash away her stress better than any amount of nicotine ever would.

He watched her eyes close as she seemed to sigh. He lingered longer than he should have. He'd never seen her look so peaceful. "Miyoko, are you alright?" He was worried that she'd gone into shock.

She opened her eyes. "Get off me, damn it." They instantly fixed in a glare, and the peace in her was eradicated. He knew she was alright.

He lowered himself back to the seat and took another long dreg, pulling the glowing ember closer to his lips. He watched the anxiety wash over her as she looked back to the house; her cigarette was perched, forgotten between her fingers.

'Why is she anxious? She shows no loyalty to Derrick, and after all I can assume he's done, wouldn't she be relieved?'


	7. Chapter 7

Mello spotted Matt walk out the door. Miyoko was sitting, head in her hands, still smoking her cigarette. He had thrown his out the window (his own window) a while ago. Her head snapped up when the light came on. Matt wasn't dripping in blood. That meant there wasn't much of a fight. He glanced at his phone; it was 5:10 in the morning.

He looked over at Miyoko, who was staring out her window. He heard Matt's seatbelt click; he was being unusually cautious. Miyoko didn't make any such movements.

He slid over to sit by her. "You'll be alright?" he inquired.

She simply nodded, and he knew she didn't trust herself to speak. 'So this is what it took to break her,' he thought. It wasn't their intentions, to destroy her spirit, but she was so clearly broken. Facing one's mortality has that effect, he noted. Even though she had put her life on the line so many times before, it was as though she knew they wouldn't hurt her. Or maybe she just didn't care if they were the ones to do it. Derrick was closer to her than they ever were, or ever would be. She didn't think they would kill her, either way. Matt might have, but Mello? He knew that he couldn't shed her innocent blood, if she could be called innocent. He liked her spirit too much, and saw himself in her eyes.

In the fading moonlight he could see a single tear roll down her cheek. He put a hand on hers, and she squeezed him. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arm carefully around her. Stabbed, shot, and now alone; she complied without the energy to fight. He could see her exhaustion. She leaned against him and sighed again.

His scent calmed her mind as the weight of his arm around her pulled at her consciousness. "He didn't deserve to die," she whispered.

"You spoke of killing him before you left," Mello stated.

"I would never harm Jenji," she answered. "He was always the one who stood up to Derrick for me, when I was too battered and broken to fight for myself."

Mello sighed. Derrick surely couldn't always dominate her, but she was human, and had her share of weaknesses just as everyone else did. If you're around someone long enough, as they were together, then you're bound to find them. He must have just found a chink in her armour. This Jenji stepped in to protect her when she couldn't do it herself.

Mellow realized that it was his death she was upset about, not facing her own. She'd rather have died than watch him fall. She felt guilty for leaving him; she felt like a coward.

Matt had started the car by now, and was pulling out of the street they were on with caution. He knew better than to barrel out of there. If he could just calmly control his lead foot, no one would connect this car to the murders that had just been committed. Once they got to the highway, he was pushing a speed nearly 130 kilometres/hour. They would make it back to their dwelling in roughly six hours, mostly due to winding through the back roads into the forest that were damn near impossible to navigate your way through..

"Miyoko," Mello whispered.

"Hn?" was the only answer he received. Her head lifted up.

"I think it'd be best if you stayed for a while," he informed her. "They're going to look to you as a suspect."

"I'm aware," she answered. "I was just planning on going to Yorkshire."

"They'd follow your paper trail," he told her. "It's best if you just seem to disappear for a while."

It didn't take her long to respond. "I agree." She shifted away from him in vein; he refused to let her go. Instead, he pulled her back to him, her head resting firmly against his uninjured shoulder.

Matt glanced back through the rear view mirror. He saw them sitting together, Mello's chin resting on the top of her head. He thought to himself how unlike Mello it was to comfort this woman; a woman who had tried to kill them both. If Matt had his way, he would have killed her as well just for stabbing him so many times, not to mention his hatred for her that had accumulated in her brief stay with them. Yes, his immediate dislike for her really wasn't something she did personally to him, and couldn't be helped at this point. He just loathed seeing her in the back of his car, nestled against his best friend as though she had done nothing wrong.

Then again, Matt had never seen her distraught before. He hadn't even seen her shed a tear in pain, yet when he glanced back again, there was a single, weak tear glistening in the faint twilight. 'This is a new era in her life; a breaking point, so to speak. In one night, everything she had rooted herself to was destroyed. We severed her only tie to the real world.'

He contemplated what she must be thinking; how small she must feel, being comforted by the very man who threatened her life. What justice was this? Surely there is something proverbially corrupt with this image. Was this the will of some unseen higher power? Matt lit a cigarette and shook his head. She was a woman who had lost the only person who had ever been a genuine threat to her, yet at the same time was the only person who looked out for her. What a fucked up world this was, indeed.

Mello nearly fell asleep in the back seat of the Audi TT Turbo when Miyoko shifted in her sleep. She pulled against him for a moment, but he wouldn't let her put strain on her wounded arm again. If she reopened the wound, she wouldn't stop bleeding for hours. Blood was not easy on leather seats.

Mello slid back over to the far side of the seat. He pulled her over to him, and watched her eyes flutter open for a moment. "What the hell are you doing?" She whispered.

"You're sleeping," he commanded. He continued to guide her to him, but her body tensed again.

"What the hell are you doing?" she repeated, crescendo in her voice. She bolted upright.

"You need to rest," Mello sighed.

"No, I don't," she insisted, pulling her wrist out of his grip.

Matt spoke next. "If you want to avoid shock, you need to sleep. He's right, Miyoko."

"I don't give a damn," she answered.

"Pull over, Mail."

'Mail?' she thought. 'This must be Matt's name. I can see why he changed it.'

Matt pulled over on the side of the highway. "What?" he asked.

Mello got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. He got in and spoke back at Miyoko, "You're going to sleep the rest of the way there, even if I have to drug you."

"With what?" she hissed.

Mello rummaged in the glove compartment for a moment before extracting a bottle of night time pain medicine. "You'll be out in twenty minutes," he stated.

She reached for the bottle. "It'll take the edge off the pain. Thanks for offering it earlier, ass hole."

"You earned those wounds," he muttered.

'All is back to what it should be,' Matt thought as he pulled back onto the highway, gaining speed. He pushed the image of his friend's strange display of compassion from his mind. Knowing Mello, he would deny that it ever happened, anyway.

She spilled three small pills into the palm of her hand and popped them into her mouth. They tasted horrible, but she swallowed them nonetheless. After tossing the bottle onto Mello's lap, she laid back down on the back seat, more comfortable now that Mello wasn't guiding her to sleep on his lap. He was still the man who tried to kill her, if only to save her life later on.

Sleep found her earlier than the medicine could kick in, and despite the seatbelt buckle that was digging into her side, she was relatively comfortable. The seats smelled strongly of leather, and if she relaxed her mind she could trick herself into smelling the faint chocolate that Mello had left behind.

He watched her, not paying attention to Matt's hap hazardous driving. She stirred once or twice in her sleep, but otherwise seemed undisturbed. 'There really is no loyalty in her world,' he thought.

"Somethin's on your mind," Matt stated.

"Yeah there is; what of it?" Mello asked.

"What's with you?" Matt asked. "Why do you suddenly give a damn about her? She's got no where to go, no one to tell. Why is she still with us? You got what you wanted, and she's relatively safe. Derrick's dead, as well as the prick who decided to run around with him. Why is she so damn special?"

Mello sighed. "Matt, if I could tell you I would."

"Damn it, Matt!" Mello yelled. "Watch the damn road!"

Matt swerved in time to avoid killing the idiot that had snuck in front of him. Standing in the middle of the road was what seemed to be a really tall woman, clutching a back pack. By then, Miyoko was bolt awake and screaming, "What the fuck?"

It took Mello fifteen minutes to calm her down. She went off on Matt's driving, the murders of her companions (if they could be called such), their screaming, and finally her inquisition of where they were.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Matt answered. "Look around, there's nothing but forest."

"I can see that. How long before we're out of this damn car?"

"An hour, tops," he answered again. "Chill the fuck out."

She sat back in the seat. The sun had risen now, and was shining weakly through the flora. There was no chance of her sleeping again, not with the sun on her face. Nothing looked familiar. They truly were in the middle of nowhere.

"Why are you guys all the way out here, anyway?"

"Would you look for us out here?" Mello asked.

"These roads have to lead somewhere," she answered. "I don't see why someone wouldn't hide out here."

"Not everyone would see it that way. People only look where they would hide. They don't want to be shut out from the world, completely out of the way. Therefore, they wouldn't think someone else would want to be out here, either."

"There are those who don't want to be around society," she commented. "It's pretty shallow of these people to think everyone wants what they want."

Mello and Matt had the same thoughts regarding her remark: was she still talking about hypothetical people, or was she making a point? They glanced at each other, not really moving their heads to fully look, but from the corner of their eyes they could see the other's reflected thought. Mello couldn't see Matt's thought of 'I told you so.'

She pushed her door open when Matt had finally pulled into the drive and parked. She took bag and threw it into the bedroom they had given her. "Three days of hiking and I got nowhere," she mumbled.

She threw open the closet and piled her clothes inside, haphazardly hanging a few things, one of which was her trench coat. She faced the bed, which one of the boys had bothered to make. Frustrated with her situation, she threw the top blanket to the floor. She wasn't a neat freak; just the opposite, in fact. She preferred a little mess. It allowed her thoughts to flow more freely.

She threw her switch blade onto the nightstand, where it collided with a stack of something or other that they must have put there after she left. So they planned on bringing her back here; that was great.

"Fucking peachy," she growled. She then tilted her head to the side to look at it. There were two full cartons of her brand of chocolate flavoured cigarettes. Instead of feeling grateful to the guys for going out of their way to supply their habits, she was ticked off even farther. "Are you really that arrogant?"

"Perhaps," Mello answered. "Shirt, off, now."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Piss off, git."

"I'll leave you alone after you let me change your gauze," he answered. "Then you're free to cursing our existences in peace."

"If you dare wander too far, I will stab you." She reached for her knife and opened it with a flick of her wrist.

He pulled his magnum out and cocked it, "Are we going to go through this again?" Her knife lowered to the sheets beside her. "Take your shirt off."

His hands methodically unwound her bandages as carefully as he could, trying not to cause more damage than was already inflicted. She hissed in pain as he removed the last layer, and he could see that the wound was not healing well. "Miyo, you shouldn't have left. This is bad."

"If I didn't leave, you wouldn't have shot me."

He sighed. "Yeah, that's the point. There's a lot that could have been avoided if you'd have just stayed here."

"It could also be avoided if you weren't holding me here. Let me go, damn it."

"Go where, Miyo?" he asked, gingerly working antibacterial ointment around her wound. "You have nothing left."

"No thanks to you," she growled.

"We saved your life," he reminded her.

"I didn't need saving. He wouldn't have killed me."

"He killed Jenji," Mello spat. "You'd be no different. People like Derrick are loyal to no one other than themselves. You should know that, considering you're the same way. He would have slaughtered you, just like he did to your so called 'friend'."

He could feel her whole body shudder in anger and despair. Matt had described for him the macabre scene. She was spared from the sight of her friend, but he knew all too well what she would have found if she had favoured well in that fight.

He felt a tear hit his hand as he wrapped around her shoulder the bandage to conceal the wounds. She refused to make any sound, but could see the tear shine against the leather of his glove. His arm slithered back behind her as he wound the gauze over her shoulder. She was startled to feel his left hand on hers.

"I know what it's like to lose someone you thought was your friend. Sure, he isn't dead, but he's as good as in my eyes."

He had left a bar of chocolate in her grasp. He listened to the sound of the wrapper crinkle as she gently tore it open. She bit off a corner gently, the same way he usually did. No sense in bothering with the little squares; they'd all just get eaten anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

Mello watched the monitors that night, his eyes flickering to any movement made on the screens. He was constantly shifting his gaze to Miyoko's bedroom. She kept tossing and turning in her sleep. Tonight was fitful for her.

Though Mello was happy to have rid the world of Derrick VanAllen, he felt sorry for the pain it had caused her, as well as the nightmares she was now enduring. Once she had bolted upright, and he heard a scream coming from her bedroom. Matt started shouting, but before he made it to her bedroom, Mello caught up with him.

"Leave her alone, Matt," he called from the sofa.

Matt stopped just in front of the doorway. "Her screams can be heard in Tokyo," he complained.

"She's just gone through a traumatic experience; I'd be worried if she wasn't showing signs of stress." He glanced back at the monitor. "She's gone back to sleep, anyway. Just leave her be for the next few days. I have a feeling she's going to be reclusive; leave her alone and she'll stay out of your hair."

Matt sighed. "What ever, Mel; this is more trouble than she's worth." He plopped down on the couch, jarring the blond beside him.

Mello rested his right foot on the couch, sitting at an angle as to look at Matt and the monitors. "Why the hell do you hate her so much?"

Matt shot him a glare. "Why do you like her so damn much?" he retaliated. "She isn't useful in any way, she does nothing to help us with Kira; if anything, and she distracts you. We track her down half way across this fucking island; kill some asshole that's waving a gun at her, just to drag her back. She almost killed us!"

"No," Mello stated coldly. "She almost killed you. She only stabbed me once."

Matt glared at him with everything he had. "More reason for me to despise her; she targets me."

"No, she had every intention to kill me. I just fought back."

Matt sighed/growled. Mello had a hard time telling which it was. "Then why is she here? Why couldn't we have just stranded her somewhere?"

Mello let out a sigh of his own. "Because, Matt, we took her last strand of reality away from her. She needs someone to cling to. If it isn't us, it's going to be someone just like Derrick."

"I don't care who it is she clings to. Just get rid of her, damn it."

"No, Matt. She knows where to find us. She's going to be suspect in their murders, when she's innocent. She's just like Derrick. Do you think she's going to bat an eye at telling them we did it, and where to find us?"

Matt just sank back further into the sofa.

"Do you want to have to move all of our equipment and destroy this building? That seems like a hell of a lot of an effort. Keeping her is just easier, got it?"

Matt sighed again. "So what, we're just going to baby-sit her for the rest of our lives?"

Mello rested his head in his hands. "Damn it, Matt, just drop it. She's staying until we relocate. Kira won't stay here forever, and neither will we."

"I can only hope he'll move soon, then."

"You're a fucking prick, sometimes, d'you know that? She's done nothing to you and yet, you loathed her instantly. What the hell?"

"She tried to kill me, and nearly succeeded. It's gotten a little personal. I can't just forgive her for that, damn it."

"She tried to kill you, you killed her only friend. There, you're even."

"Even," he shouted. "I saved her worthless life. We're not even, not even close!"

Mello rolled his eyes. "What ever; she's staying, and that's final. We're better than Derrick, and if anything proves that, it's this."

"I don't see why it matters, damn it."

"You don't see it because you're wearing those ridiculous fucking goggles." Mello pushed against Matt's head, throwing the boy's hair over to the other side.

Matt punched Mello in the arm. "You fuck wad," he hissed.

Mello shoved off the couch. "Be that as it may, I'm still your best friend." He passed through the doorway and headed through towards Miyoko's bedroom.

Miyoko

She woke up to the door creaking open. Before her brain caught up with the situation, she found her knife lodged in the door frame, and her arm outstretched. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw Mello standing in the doorway. She lowered her arm slowly, weary and tired.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered. "I can't sleep for shit. I feel sore; heavy."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I can help with the pain," he whispered before handing her a bottle. She shook out two large pills. "You're going to want to take only one of those. Maybe half; you have a pretty small frame."

"What the hell are these?" she asked.

"Hydrocodone," he answered. "Darbacet: high end pain pills."

She took one and swallowed it. "I don't want to know where you got those," she stated. She then reclined against her pillow and yawned.

"I have connections in all the right places," he informed her. "You're possibly going to feel strange for a while. Hydro does hit everyone a little differently. If you get nauseous, though, stop taking them."

"Standard four to six hours between taking them," she mumbled as an inquiry.

"Yeah," he answered. "The longer you can wait, the better. It isn't unheard of for people to get addicted to these things."

She sighed. "Are you going to be using these to control me?" She glanced at the cigarettes on her night stand.

"Depends," he answered. "Are you addicted to them yet?" She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"You're just as bad as he is, you know that right?" She rolled over on her side, blocking him from view.

"I'm no where near the monster he _was_." He put a significant amount of emphasis on the word 'was.' "Miyoko, he's dead."

He heard nothing more than a muffled sob come from the depths of her pillow smothered face. She pulled her legs and arms in toward her chest, curling into the fetal position. It pained him to look at her.

"Miyoko," Mello whispered. "It's for the best. He would have killed you."

She released another choked cry.

Mello placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. "I know you'll be okay, damn it. You're a survivor. You never needed him. You never needed either of them."

She pulled away from his touch. "You're a heartless bastard," she uttered with ice in her words. "I wouldn't expect you to understand what it means to have friends."

She found his fist next to her cheek. "Don't you dare accuse me of being a heartless bastard, when I saved your life; ungrateful wench. If left to his own devices, Matt would have killed you to, or better yet, left you to die."

She retreated away from his gloved hand. "I don't see why you give a damn, Mihael."

He pulled her to face him by the hair. "You push my patience, woman. I've killed for less, and yet, you push me? Have you no respect for your life?"

"Get out, Mello." She shot him a glare. "Leave me alone. I never asked for your help. I never wanted your intervention."

Mello just looked at her. "I can't believe you, Usagi." He released her hair, allowing her to fall back to the bed. He walked out of the bedroom, anger and insight flushing his mind.

"Well that was entertaining," Matt stated. "I take it didn't go as planned."

"She fucking loved him," Mello hissed. "After all he did to her, she loved him."

Matt just blinked for a moment before he found words. "She really told you that?"

"No, damn it. She's too fucking proud. She'd never admit to that. It's written all over the way she acts; why else would she care that the man who nearly killed her was shot? I wouldn't. I'd be fucking happy."

Matt sighed. "Just shot the whore, damn it." He pulled out his own Glock, cocked it, and passed it to Mello.

Mello wrapped his fingers around the weapon and looked at it. He was furious, yes. He had been disrespected by an ungrateful girl, and then commanded as though he were a subordinate. He had shot people for less, much, much less. She had been trying is patience ever since he took her in. He gave her shelter and food when he could have just forced her to wander through the wilderness.

"I'm not going to fucking shoot her, Matt, and neither are you." He walked out of the room, making that a final order.

_A/N_

_I'm sorry this is so short. I have no idea where I'm going with this story. I had an idea when I started, but I started it years ago, and now I don't want to do that anymore, because it would just be a stupid "If I had things my way," sort of flick. There would have been another Shinigami (which is what I scrapped) and there would be a whole lot of using Miyo (which I still might do, after all) and I just got lost after deleting all of that. I'm sorry if this story takes a while to get off the ground. Please, be patient and bear with me. _

_Review, Please. _

_Any ideas are welcome at this point._

_~Rose_


	9. Chapter 9

Mello dropped his keys and helmet on the table by the front door. His magnum soon followed suit. He dug around in his leather pockets and pulled some spare bullets free of their confines. He left his coins among the mess before entering the house.

He passed the living room, where Matt was facing the dozens of monitors, a game console in his hand. "You're back," the brunette mumbled without even glancing back. "How'd it go?" His voice was almost drowned out by the beeping and booping coming from his game.

Mello massaged his temples. "It was far more stressful than I imagined, but it's done." He looked up at the monitors and found Miyoko sitting in the kitchen at the table, moving her spoon around a full bowl of cereal. "She's still not eating anything, is she?"

"The hell if I know," Matt answered. "I just make sure she's still here." He scrunched up his face in concentration as the video game demanded his complete attention.

Mello knew it was time to move on. He watched the monitors for a few minutes more, Miyoko never changing.

He approached Miyoko, who didn't even look up when he entered the kitchen all the way in the back of the hideout. He took the bowl from her. She protested rather loudly. "You've been pushing this mush around for five minutes. You're not going to eat it."

She just sighed and folded her arms. She didn't argue with him. She watched him dispose of the soggy goop.

He sat down across from her. "Have you ever had a stable job, Miyo?" he asked.

"Since when do you call me 'Miyo,' Mihael?"

He noticed that she only used his birth name in sarcasm. "Since it's shorter," he answered. "Answer my question, damn it." He reclined against the table, his right foot on the seat of the chair.

She sighed, "Define a stable job."

He looked her dead in the eye, "Legal."

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. "Nope; sorry, I can't say I have."

He shuddered at the thought of what her previous occupations might have been.

"Have you ever had a legal job?" she asked in retaliation.

He just glared at her. "That's not the question at hand."

"I didn't think so," she smirked.

"Regardless, you have an interview." He stood up from the table, throwing a few papers on the table.

She looked at the papers and then at him. "I don't know if I should thank you, or lay you out on the floor."

He was expecting this reaction. "If you want to punch me," he provoked, "I left my magnum at the front door." He flashed a smile.

She failed to get off her ass. "What's the job for? I want to know what it is you want me to do before I decide to deck you."

He braced himself for the worst. "Your interview is with a modelling agency. You'll be competing with models and actresses across Japan."

Her smirk turned into a feral snarl before he could blink. "You did what?" she growled. "What makes you think I can model?"

"Look at you. You have every feature an attractive Asian woman should have, yet you have exotic, European green eyes. You're petite, lithe, and athletic. With a little cosmetic help, you could even be pretty." Mello dodged an oncoming dinner plate just as it shattered against the door frame.

"You're dead, you filthy git!"

Once hiding behind the couch on the other end of the complex, Mello chuckled to himself.

"She's paying for that," Matt mumbled.

Mello looked up at the monitor, where he found Miyoko still sitting at the table. She had the paperwork in hand, reading it over. "How's her portfolio going?" he asked Matt.

Matt shoved a laptop in his direction. "You tell me," he grumbled. "This isn't my favourite assignment, but since it makes her so uncomfortable, I pulled out all the stops. Magazine articles, blog pages, social networking sites; you name it. All we need are professional photos. Even if they're crummy, I can work with them.

"I can't imagine you persuading Miyoko into a professional photo shoot," Matt stated. "She seems furious with you."

Mello hadn't broken his gaze from the monitor. "I think she'll come around to it." Matt joined him in watching her. She was looking between one sheet of paper and another. "Besides, I think she needs something to do to give her a little push."

"Push her toward what, Mello?" Matt looked at him with disbelief. "What's going through your brilliant little mind?"

Mello just smirked. "Let's just settle for her happiness. Anything else is extra."

Matt looked at the monitors. She was no longer seated at the table, but instead was within hearing range down the hallway. Mello was up to something, and Matt wasn't sure if he was okay with what that might be.

Miyoko walked through the threshold. "What's in it for me?" she demanded.

Mello smiled at Matt. "You keep what ever money you make," he stated. "You gain some measure of freedom; you can come and go as your hours and situation requires. We'll have to get you your own car, of course, so you can get there. Matt won't let you touch the Chevelle."

"Damn straight I won't; that's my baby, bitch," Matt growled.

"Why do you want me to do this?" was her next question. "What's in it for you?"

Matt was the first to speak, while still playing his video game. "It gets you the fuck out of my house."

Mello punched him. "It's my house, damn it." He looked back at her. "Gets you the fuck out of _my _house," He smirked at her. "That's not the reason," he assured her, after seeing the look she was giving him. "It allows me to work here without worrying about what you're doing."

"You're working on the Kira case?" she asked.

He nodded. "Keeping my eyes on Kira means I can't keep constant tabs on you; understand?"

"The agency you're sending me to, they have some notable people employed there."

"Yes," Mello answered. "That's why I chose that agency for you."

"Why modelling?" she asked. "Why not journalism or art: anything else? Why do I have to parade around in heels and make up?"

"It doesn't require any honed skills, for one." Mello looked at her. "Your current skill set doesn't allow for much. You're sassy, loud, and you don't care what people think about you. Sounds like modelling material to me."

She sighed. "Fine, I'll give it a try. You've got two weeks to sell this to me; otherwise, I'm all out."

Mello got up off the couch. He shot her a smile before gathering his mess on the table and walking out the front door.

"Where the hell is he going?" Miyoko asked.

"Didn't you hear him?" Matt asked sarcastically. "He's going car shopping."

Her jaw hit the floor. "He's buying me a car?" she asked.

"No," Matt stated. "He's buying himself a car. You're just going to use it."

Miyoko looked over his shoulder at the game he was playing. She couldn't make sense of what he was supposed to do. Then again, she never understood why Jenji played them, either.

"Can I help you?" Matt put his game on pause he was playing to glare at her through his orange goggles. "Or do you just stand there like a creeper over everyone's shoulder?"

"What are you playing?" she asked.

"What's it to you? You don't game."

She chose not to tell him that it was a common link between him and Jenji. He'd get all butt hurt over her bringing it up or comparing the two. She could hear it now. 'I'm nothing like that thug,' he would protest. She could almost hear his snarl.

"Hello, are you listening to me, damn it?"

Turned out, she was really hearing his snarling. "No," she murmured. "What were you saying?"

He let out an infuriated sigh. Hurling himself off the sofa with more effort than she ever thought he could muster, Matt stormed out of the living room. She watched him march down the hallway and through a back door that she'd never been through before. Searching the monitors for the room he was in, she found he had disappeared off the board. She wondered what was in that room that was so secret.

She sighed, jumping over the back of the couch to land on the cushions. She propped her foot up on the arm, reclining against the pillow resting on the other. "Bastard would shoot me if I followed him."

She dug in the cushions of the couch out of curiosity. She found several chocolate bars stashed on Mello's side, and game cartridges on Matt's. There were a few coins somewhere in the middle, but otherwise, she could tell they didn't deviate from that much. "Well they're boring," she grumbled.

She started pacing the hallway out of sheer boredom. She hated being trapped. This was why she agreed to be their little poster girl. It gave her a chance to get out and breathe, leaving them behind to do their work.

She stopped in front of the room Matt had disappeared into. She was sorely tempted to go inside and bother him, just for the fun of it. Mello had been gone for what felt like hours.

Mello

He walked into the house to see the front room empty and neither of them on the monitor. He knew where Matt would be, and so he walked down the hallway and into the door second from the last on the left hand side, just across from the kitchen.

Matt was sitting there, adjusting the legs on a camera tripod in front of a white backdrop. "You're back early," he stated. The DSLR camera's flash went off, lighting up the room.

Mello's eyes shifted to the lights that were jumbled in a pile next to the set. "It went better than planned," was all he said on the matter. "You're behind schedule."

"I am not. I'm right where I should be. Just because you're early, that doesn't mean everyone else is." He set the camera tripod upright on the floor, with the camera on it after making one final adjustment. "It wasn't my idea to turn the workroom into a studio. It isn't exactly the fastest thing in the world, taking apart all of our equipment."

"Where did you stash it?" Mello asked, concerned.

Matt pointed to a closet on the far side of the room. "Over there, behind all the excess shit you bought for this stupid scheme."

Mello rolled his eyes. "I'm going to shoot you, damn it, I swear. You bitch too much, Matt."

"You're one to fucking talk," he grumbled. He threw a light at Mello. "Don't just stand there, asshole, do something."

He threw it back at Matt. "Where's Miyoko," Mello demanded.

"The hell if I know," he answered, screwing the light onto a pole. "She was in the living room."

"Well, she isn't there now."


	10. Chapter 10

Miyoko peered into the window of the shop in downtown Tokyo before sauntering into the store. Having successfully hotwired Matt's red '70 Chevelle, she felt both rebellious and free. Adding Mello's credit card to the mix just made it all the sweeter.

She passed rack after rack of expensive clothing, savouring the sights, textures, and fabrics. If Mello wanted her to parade as a model, she was going to dress like one, and she was going to do it in her own style. Derrick had never allowed her to indulge in her feminine nature; to be honest she was overwhelmed and a little unsure of where to start. Her hands touched silk, and she knew.

Three shops later, and she was rediscovering herself, one dressing room at a time. Cashmeres, silks, cotton, fur, and laces all found themselves at her disposal. Department stores served her welcomingly, warmly, and with complete gratification.

The fifth shop was when she noticed people acting weird around her. A photographer's camera flashed from behind a dressed mannequin. Her attention turned toward him. "The hell," she muttered to herself. The man, seeing that he had been spotted, ducked behind a clothing display before dashing toward an escalator.

She spotted him once more when she was trying on her armful of clothing with tags in languages she couldn't read nor understand. As soon as she stepped out of the dressing room, the flash went off again.

"Can I help you?" she asked, albeit a tad annoyed.

Another flash was the only answer she got.

A long haired man stepped forward from behind the photographer. He cleared his throat conspicuously and with a minor hint of arrogance. "Excuse me," he stated, "I do believe you're annoying miss Tsutsuji."

Miyoko just stared at him.

The man with that camera, clearly recognising the other, more well dressed man, just sunk into himself without uttering a sound.

Without looking at him, the aristocrat waved his hand. "Do leave."

The man scuttled away without making much more of a fuss, leaving the aristocrat and Miyoko staring after him. Glancing back at them, he snapped one final picture before retreating down the escalator.

The man sighed with a small smirk. "The media never knows when to quit, do they?"

"Thank you for your assistance," Miyoko stated, trying to not sound irked with his arrogance. She refrained from adding, 'It wasn't needed,' to her sentence.

He expanded his smile. "Never a problem, Tsutsuji-san; I am surprised to see a woman such as yourself unescorted."

"Clearly you've heard of me," she stated. "Who are you?" She was extremely confused as to why he kept calling her "Tsutsuji," but decided it was just best to go along with it all. The entire situation made her head spin.

He chuckled softly. "They weren't kidding when they said you were a newly rising star. A thousand pardons, Miss Tsutsuji. My name is Reiji Namikawa. I am the Vice President of Sales for the Yotsuba Corporation, and one of the leading socialites in Tokyo." He extended a hand to her, which she reluctantly took.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Namikawa," she answered through a forced smile. This man was a master with words, and it took all of her concentration not to swear, say something vulgar, or erupt out of frustration. It didn't help her that she was still wearing the store's dress, nor that he was clearly wealthy enough to have bought out the entire store.

"The pleasure is entirely mine," he practically purred. "Perhaps you'd grant me the honour of escorting Tokyo's rising top actress to lunch?"

She flashed him a quick and flattered smile, or at least, she hoped that was what he took it for. She felt awkward and out of place standing next to him. She was kilometres away from her comfort zone. "I am afraid I must decline," she answered. "I have an appointment with my, er…" She fumbled for a reasonable excuse. "I have an appointment with my tailor."

He just smiled at her. "Yes, I can understand. After a day of shopping, that's never too far behind. As it is, that dress hits you in all the wrong places."

She looked down, feeling extremely self conscious. Personally, she couldn't see anything wrong with the garment. Sure, it wasn't exactly the most form fitting thing she tried on that day, but it wasn't the worst train wreck in the shipping yard. "Yes, I agree. It isn't my colour, either," she stated.

He screwed his face up, deciding between agreeing or not. "No, you're quite right. It takes the green away from your eyes. They look very amber." He dug in the inside pocket on his suit jacket and procured a business card. "When you have a moment, call me. I do want that appointment with you. We could do coffee, maybe, if lunch is too inconvenient for you."

She took the card from him gingerly, trying to remember everything her mother ever said about being a lady. "Thank you, Namikawa-san."

He smiled brightly. "Please, just call me Reiji. There's no need for such formality among peers." His hand brushed hers as he withdrew. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tsutsuji. I look forward to hearing from you soon." He turned away from her and glided toward the elevator at the back of the department store. He chanced one final glance after he entered the chamber, doors closing on his warm and inviting smile.

Once Reiji was out of sight, Miyoko let out a sigh of relief. She was fluttery, feeling clumsy and unrefined. Never has she faced a man such as him. She mingled with common criminals; to gain the attention of a well known socialite… She has never felt so nervous.

"Who was that?" a familiar voice growled in her ear. She could tell Mello was angry, but that was the least of her problems.

"His name is Reiji Namikawa."

Mello looked disinterested. "He's with Yotsuba," was his only response.

"Vice President of Sales," she repeated.

"Well," Mello hissed. "What did he want?"

"To meet for lunch or coffee," she answered. "Hey, who is Tsutsuji?" she asked.

Mello sighed. "Go change; I'll explain in the damn car."

"Wait," she murmured. "Where's Matt?"

"Someone has to drive my bike home," he stated. "He's downstairs."

She turned into the changing room, pulling the door shut behind her. Once she emerged again with her usual trench coat, baggy pants, and pink tank top on, Mello took her arm in his and led her through the store, grabbing her bags.

"So, you've decided to go shopping, huh?" he muttered, stashing her bags and opening the car door for her. He slid into the driver's seat.

"You wanted me to be a model," she answered. "I'm going to look like a model, damn it." She reclined against the seat.

He smirked at her. "That was next on my list. By the way, Matt's pissed that you stole his car."

"I got bored, damn it. He went off into the room you don't have cameras in, stayed there for a couple hours, and didn't come out. So, I left."

Mello just looked at her, accelerating down Tokyo's street. "You could have waited for me to get back."

"Where's the fun in that?" she answered with a smile. "Besides, you're probably no fun to shop with."

"Speaking of, can I have my credit card back?" he asked.

"What if I refuse?" she rebuked.

He pulled the magnum on her. "I'll shoot your foot." He pulled back the hammer threateningly.

She slid the plastic card from her pocket. "Fine, here you go; damn."

He took it from her and returned his eyes to the road, slipping it into his pant's pocket. He then returned the gun to its customary home in his waist band after ensuring that it was once again safe.

"Who is Tsutsuji," she repeated.

"You are Tsutsuji," he stated. "Miyo Tsutsuji, rising Japanese actress and model; she is your alter ego. She is who you must become to make this successful."

Miyoko nodded slowly. "Why wasn't I told this?" she demanded. "Why am I already being photographed for tabloids, when I don't even know who I am supposed to me?"

Mello slammed on the breaks. "You were photographed?" he growled.

"That isn't my fault, damn it. You were the one who did this, not me."

"I didn't send you out into the public to get photographed!" he shouted. "Gah, this is a mess, Miyoko. You're not ready for that yet!" He turned to look at her. "What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything. Mr. Namikawa intervened before I had to."

Mello just sighed. "This man is meddling, and I don't like it." He pulled back onto the highway rather hazardously. "He could become a problem."

"For what; I'm just a model!"

Mello just glared at the road. "I don't like him."

"You don't know him."

"Neither do you," he stated. "He wants to take you out to lunch?"

"Or coffee," she added. "Either would do, he said."

"Good, you're going to call him. Not today, maybe not tomorrow; but you'll call him soon."

"You make no sense, to me, Mello."

"I don't make _any_ sense to you," he corrected. "Let me explain my thoughts. This man is well off. He's already established in the media's eyes. Not quite in your industry, but it's going to grab attention if he has a budding model on his arm. He's a socialite. I could tell just by the way he asserted himself. He had aristocrat written all over him. The press respects him. He's going to be an asset to you, just as he anticipates you being an asset to him. Him asking you to lunch; that's a business move. It has nothing to do with who you are. He's using you for his own image, just as we're going to use him. Networking is everything for you."

Once they pulled into the drive, Miyoko pressed her nose against the window of Matt's precious Chevelle. Her eyes fell upon the bright yellow convertible Mitsubishi Eclipse parked next to Mello's Audi and Kawasaki motor bike. "Is that mine?" she asked.

Mello smirked. "For your use," he clarified. "A model cannot simply drive a Chevelle, though it is an admirable American classic. This is something you can drive to a coffee date in."

"That's mine," she stated in disbelief.

Putting the car into park, he looked at her. Shuffling in his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys. "They're yours, so long as you promise me you'll take care of it."

She snatched the keys. "Are you kidding?" she asked. "That's a sexy car. There's no way…" She just trailed off mid sentence.

He tossed the keys to her, which she caught. "The first party he mentions, show interest in it, understand?"

"Why should I?" she asked, stepping out of the car.

"He's going to want to take you, show you off to his peers, and one up their dates. That means you'll be making a lot of connections with men who want to get a hold of what he already has. Not to mention women who want to be seen around town with one of the media's new favourites to soak in your fifteen minutes of fame. Attention is a spider web. Everyone is intertwined; no one can keep the camera's focus on their own." Mello unlocked the door.

"You seem to know a lot about how this works," she stated, following him into the hideout.

"Observation gets you everywhere in this industry. Information is as much a part of your success as your looks. Gossip is what thrives out there."

She looked around the place. "Gossip is going to have a hay day with this place."

Mello looked at her. "Once you get on your feet, we're getting you an apartment. We're moving this to Tokyo."

"Great," she sighed. "The commute is horrid!" Her eyes rolled sarcastically. "You're relocating to where Kira's rumoured to be."

"Very good, Miyo; you're getting there. That's just one added convince of you being based in Tokyo." He walked into the back room where Matt had disappeared, and where they found Matt once more.

Matt looked up. "You fucking whore," he growled. "You stole my car!"

"Chill the fuck out, Matt. She got a lot done that needed done."

He redirected his glare at Mello. "You're a bastard for allowing this. She could have waited for you."

"She made a contact while she was out. If I were there with her, that wouldn't have happened," Mello explained.

Matt looked at him. "Who's her contact?"

"Reiji Namikawa," Mello answered. "He is the current VP of Sales with Yotsuba."

"He isn't in the entertainment industry, but he does have some influence, if you stretch it a little. He certainly gets media attention."

"How's the blogging coming?" Mello asked.

Matt sighed. "Like your typical gossip fest. Miyo, your fan base is growing, and with it, the gossip flies. Rumours are flying of suspected sightings Tokyo here to Okinawa. If people believe everything they read, then you've got at least three high status boyfriends."

She just smirked. "And the bad news?" she asked. "Nothing is ever all sweet."

Matt sighed and looked at Mello. "This is going to piss you off, but one of those high status relations is Kira. That's one of the explanations as to why she rose so quickly. Another is that she really is Kira, and is using her status to manipulate and victimize her peers."

Mello sighed. "It just can't be smooth sailing, can it?"

Miyoko answered, "It's just one little rumour. The worst thing that will happen is that I'll be investigated, which will only increase my following."

"She has a point," Matt stated. "There is no such thing as bad attention."


	11. Chapter 11

Miyoko stared at the computer screen. She watched Matt airbrush her imperfections away with short clicks of a mouse. Hundreds of photos in dozens of different attires were being edited with his pirated and highly professional imagery software. Gone was the scar over her collar bone. No more did she have freckles that showed under the bright lights. Her hair was whisked smooth and her eyes were enhanced to a more gorgeous shade of green.

She had seen the work Matt had done prior to her leaving for that shopping trip. It was a wonder that the man with the camera or Mr. Namikawa could have identified her so easily. He had taken old photos from Jenji's apartment and doctored them up similarly before posting them in blogs, inserting them into popular magazine websites, and creating her own social networking sites using the more personal ones.

The public was eating up their false façade eagerly; the socialites were just as easy to fool. Mello had given her a cell phone, which he told her, would be used to track her movements with GPS from their reclusive base, also served to be her hotline. Photographers and directors called her throughout the day, as well as low level celebrities who were looking to boost their own credibility.

Mello had become more of a manager when it came to these things. The aspiring employers were transferred immediately to him, and the celebrities either earned a nod or a shake of the head when she repeated the name in polite conversation. It took three days for her month to fill up completely, and by then, her number had been changed.

With the new number, they learned to be more exclusive with it. Mello had his number for the business aspect, and she was finally allowed to call Reiji Namikawa back. She was instructed to call the personal cell phone number, which was something she would never do under different circumstances.

When he answered, all of the endearing warmth was gone from his voice. "Namikawa," was his simple, staccato reply

"Hello, Reiji," she purred. She put him on speaker phone, eyeing Mello in the doorway. "It's Miyo Tsutsuji." It had taken a lot of practice for that to sound the way she wanted it.

She could hear the half smile on his face. "I was wondering when you'd call," he stated. "It's nice to hear from you." The gentlemanly charm had returned now that he had established that this wasn't a business call; not on the surface. She knew he was using her to gain even more of a social standing, and she planned to use him in the same way.

"Thank you," she answered, trying her best to sound mischievous. "I was wondering if that invitation to coffee was still open."

He chuckled warmly. "Of course it is, Miss Tsutsuji. I'm tomorrow afternoon, around two."

Mello had warned her not to take the first offer that came her way. "I'm sorry; I have a photo shoot tomorrow at two."

He smiled when he answered, "All those new outfits have to be used for something."

She chuckled warmly in response. She wasn't going to tell him that they had already finished her photo shoot.

"Tuesday then," he stated, "My lunch hour?"

"That works for me," she answered, erasing a previous appointment from her phone's schedule. It was just some small time news article. Mello wasn't happy about that particular reporter's style of writing, anyway. All slander no truth; surely he was going to make something up anyway. This just gives him the preface he needs to justly do so.

She could hear the smile extend all the way. "Perfect," he purred. "I'll pick you up, if you don't mind?"

"Sure, I'll be out at an interview prior to that. You can pick me up there." She gave him the address to the magazine company whose appointment she had on her agenda, as well as the time that he can expect her to be finished.

"Wonderful; I believe you're going to adore the place we're going to."

She rolled her eyes and attempted to keep her voice playful. "I thought this was just going to be coffee," she protested.

He softly laughed. "No worries; for all intents and purposes, it is just coffee." That translated to 'as far as you know, it is.'

The line went dead and she tapped the screen to end the call. "All social endeavours are political."

Mello collapsed down on a chair next to her at the kitchen table. "Of course they are; you're all sharks. Which appointment did you just erase?" He snagged the phone off the table and scanned through her appointments. Once he found it, he set the phone down, not saying anything else. She took that as approval. "So, I take you'll need a ride to the interview, then?"

"Well, I had thought he would just drop me off where my car was."

Mello swatted his hand at her. "Nonsense, Miyo; you're being driven there."

She rolled her eyes, this time in pure sarcasm. "Matt's going to just _love_ you for that."

"He gets to drive the Eclipse." His tone implied that this compensated for any ill feelings towards being her chauffer.

He eyes widened. "He is not driving _my _car!" she shouted.

"My car," he corrected. "You know the one you're borrowing?"

She glared at him while lighting a cigarette between her lips. "I refuse," she stated. "There is no way I'm being paraded around Tokyo with that lunatic. Fuck. No."

Mello rolled his eyes and set his magnum on the table. A sigh of relief muttered from his lips.

"Can't you go one day without pulling that thing on me? Damn, it's like you're compensating for your small penis." She deliberately blew hazy smoke in his direction.

He stood and showed her the indentation the butt of the gun left on his abdomen. "It hurts after a while, damn it. Besides, bet I'm bigger than any of the tricks you've turned in your career."

She threw a knife in his general direction for that comment before snuffing out her fag. "You're an ass, Mihael."

"And you're a bitch, Miyoko Usagi." He took the knife out of the grain of the chair back he was leaning against. "You need to work on your aim a bit, you know?" He casually tossed it, and it landed point down into the wood of the table.

"Sorry, I know you'll shoot me if I throw it any closer to you." She then mutters one insult under her breath, "Prick."

He leans with his hands on the table and answered with a smirk on his face, "You wouldn't have me any other way." He then walked from the room and escaped from her line of sight. She put a bullet through the door, using his magnum.

XxX

Mello pulled the car in front of the skyscraper located in downtown Tokyo. Miyoko could see Yotsuba Corporation's glowing signs from the back seat of her shinny blue eclipse. Surely traffic would not be an issue in Mr. Namikawa-san's punctuality.

He walked her to the front desk, gave her a few professional reminders about her schedule, kissed her hand, and said good bye before walking out the door. 'He's as much as sucker for the public as I must be,' she remarked to herself. 'He already has everyone buying into him being a professional manager. What will be next, business cards?'

The woman behind the desk did not miss the exchange; she had actually been leaning forward to hear and see every juicy little detail. Miyoko tagged her as someone who was hoping to become a star journalist herself, treading on every celebrity's life and personal relations on her way to their inner circle of recognition. This just managed to irritate Miyoko. "I have an appointment," was all she could muster in a polite tone. She couldn't wait for this to be over.

"Of course you do, Tsutsuji-san. Go ahead and go up; I'll let them know you're coming." She already had the phone to her ear and dialling before the elevator doors shut on Miyo.

"I bet you can't wait to tell them what you just saw, either," she muttered under her breath. "Yes, crawl like the lowlife creature you are."

By the time the elevators opened again twelve floors up, Miyo had composed her mindset to be an agreeable young socialite who appeared bored, yet kind and polite. She wasn't the only one there, waiting for an interview. Once she sat down, she could see the top half of some blonde girl's face and her obnoxious little pigtails over the glass divider. The expression, or what she could see of it, was of startled curiosity.

"Misa-Misa, She's ready for you now." A woman dressed in a pinstripe pencil skirt and a beige blouse with too many ruffles for her small frame walked into the room.

Misa Aname turned around with a blush, embarrassed to be caught ogling another model. "Of course," she says with an enthusiastic smile.

Miyoko made one observation about the woman accused of being Kira. "I will never be that girlish, ever." She concluded that Misa got off on her school girl naïve charm. She has just found the inspiration she needed to shape herself into a persona. Yes, it will go against everything she is at the moment; but doesn't being a model already do that? If Derrick could see her now…

The ruffled woman walked over to Miyo and addressed her courteously. "Your appointment will be ready in another five minutes. If you would like to help yourself to coffee, feel free to do so." She vaguely gestured toward a beverage bar.

Considering Miyo was going to go on what she assumed to be a coffee date in roughly two hours, she decided against it. However, a nice muffin would hold her over, considering Mello forced her to miss breakfast. She munched at the muffin with limited interest, waiting for the ruffled lady to return to collect her.

Roughly two hours later, Miyo returned to the lobby to see the woman behind the front desk in a jittery and giggly mess. It didn't take long for Miyo to find out why. Leaning over the polished wood with an elegant grace letting his hair brush the top of the wood, was Reiji Namikawa. Once he registered the elevator doors' _ding_, he looked up and smiled.

"I was just inquiring about you," he told her. "I didn't know when you would be finished."

The woman looked from him to Miyo, then back to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hold you up," Miyo answered. "It felt like it went on forever." She rolled her eyes and linked her arm through his, allowing him to guide her. One glance backward showed the woman hunched over her desk, writing something with a pen with giddy haste.

Reiji glanced back, and chuckled in that light hearted way of his. "It seems someone's going to have a new story to write about."

She agreed with him, "Who knows, it might replace my interview in the magazine. They kept asking me if I had a lover, but alas, I do not."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Perhaps not yet," he coyly stated. When she looked at him with an arch in her eyebrow, he just chuckled again. "They're going to spin this into the love story of the season."

"I don't think it's going to make the season," she stated. She refused to let show how much that irritated her, being seen with this man as his lover. For the world to think that they were so much more than casual acquaintances using each other's lime light to brighten their own was nauseating. She just smiled, letting a touch of her usual heavy sarcasm lace its way into her words. She had to remind herself to be a lady.

"Well, love story of the week, then," he sighed. He waved his hand in the air for a dramatic effect of exasperation before pulling her through the revolving front door. A black sedan waited for them; it wasn't too flashy, but the simple elegance just breathed an upper class air. It wasn't sporty, like her Eclipse or Matt's Chevelle, but for a business man, she expected nothing less. She also noticed that there was a man in the front seat; of course he wouldn't drive his own car to a lunch date.

He opened the door for her, allowing her to slide in before following. The driver pulled forward, not waiting for the clicks of their seatbelts. Reiji relaxed into the leather back seat. She could tell that he was happy to get away from his office, if only for an hour. His job seemed incredibly stressful.

"So, you know what I do for a living," she started, "But I have no idea what occupies so much of your time." She set her purse on the floor of the car by her ankles.

"I already told you," he smiled, "I'm the vice president of sales at Yotsuba." He pointed to the large building that she had seen when Mello dropped her off this morning.

"I remember that, but what does that entail?" She tried to keep the curiosity in her voice to a minimum, not allowing him to see despise she had for the rich. Being a street urchin, she's always begrudged those who had it easy in the ways of wealth.

"Well, for starters, I manage the expenses of the company. Inventory, stock, sales, purchases; it all lands on my desk. The mountain of paperwork in my inbox makes Everest look like a dwarfed little hill." A sigh escaped him. "Then there are the people that I have to manage. Sure, each different subdivision has their own managers in accounting, but all of them report to me. Each invoice has to be double, sometimes triple checked before it even goes into my books, where I have to review it. The amount of time that is wasted on overlapping tasks is astounding."

"I see why that has you stressed."

He smiled a half hearted little smirk, tilting his head back against the seat. "It's that noticeable, is it?"

"Only to someone who knows what they're looking for," she honestly answered. With Derrick, she had to look for the signs of stress. If he was even close to the edge, she was in direct danger. Even now, she sits up a little straighter on the edge of her seat even though she acknowledges that she is in no danger of this man's inability to deal with stress.

It was his turn to arch his eyebrow at her. "I don't suppose you'd tell me why a model such as yourself would have to be proficient at tuning into someone else's stress," he inquired.

She just smiled as an answer. "I've always been good at reading people." It was an honest answer; she had always been good at reading the body language of those around her, but it wasn't the reason why she adapted and honed that skill. "I guess it just helps me understand what those around me want from me."

He nodded his head. "Forgive me, but most models I have dealt with are absorbed in their own lives and don't really pay attention to those around them. It's a nice change to have the pleasure of knowing one who does."

She smirked. "I couldn't live with myself if I couldn't see past my own nose. My life is pretty boring."

"I don't think your life is boring at all," he assured her.

"Perhaps, but you're not the one living it. I'm sure you think your life is boring."

He laughed warmly. "I sit behind a desk for nine hours a day with piles of paperwork as my only company. The only interest you'll find in my life is in those I associate with." He placed his hand over hers and smiled warmly.

"Now that is an area I'm interested in," she answered. "Tell me about your life outside of work."

He sighed again. "It's pretty quiet compared to most. I play shoji often." His eyes lit up when he mentioned this. "There are a few events I go to for business reasons, a few for personal pleasure, but I keep to myself."

She smiled as the car rolled to a slowing stop.

"It would appear that we've arrived to our destination," Reiji informed her. He opened his own door and walked around to open hers. He held a hand out to her, which she took as she stepped onto the sidewalk. One look at the façade of the restaurant, and her jaw dropped.


	12. Chapter 12

Reiji gauged Miyo's reaction carefully through her reflection in the glass façade. Her eyes were darting to and fro, trying to absorb everything, from the glass to the celebrities coming and going. An eclectic mixture of modern lines and cleanliness was mixed into traditional styles and themes within the motif of the restaurant.

He guided her inside, pleased with her stunned expressions. "Aren't you happy you assented to this?" he asked softly.

She nodded, trying severely not to stare with her mouth open. He led her to their own private table in a back room, which was through a paper shoji door, where their own private waiter stood, informing them that if they should ever need anything at all, he was willing to take the call.

"I do regret to inform you that this isn't just for coffee." He smirked at her from across the table as though he had just achieved a great triumph as miso soup was set before them. "No worries, just a light lunch."

She smirked as she swirled the broth in her bowl with her spoon. "I guess I can forgive you, Reiji. After all, it's just miso soup, right?" The first sip was delicious on her lips.

His lips arched into a warm grin. "If that is what you desire, Miss Tsutsuji, yes" His words had a sensual sound to them, his gaze softened into something of a smouldering stare.

Miyo squirmed a little in her chair. She caught Derrick with the same half grin on his lips, the same glaze over his eyes. If it were anyone else, she would have thrust the knife in her purse straight through his gut, but this man couldn't defend himself against her rage. She knew that.

She took the tiny tea cup in her hands and lifted it to her lips, allowing the clean taste to overwhelm her. When she glanced back at him, his own soup seemed depleted, though she couldn't remember him eating anything. He was sipping his own tea, watching her carefully.

"Was it something I said?" he asked, setting his cup back on the table. "You got tense."

She made a conscious effort to relax. "No, it's nothing," she lied. "It's just stress from the day." She had to look over his shoulder to tell that to him, trying to focus on the couple at the next table.

She felt the tension work its way back into her shoulders as she met the light brown eyes across the next table over some brunette male's wayward gesture. "Those annoying little pigtails," she muttered under her breath.

"Miss Tsutsuji, are you alright?" Reiji asked. He glanced backward over his shoulder to see what she was looking at. He looked right past Misa-Misa.

"I'm fine, Reiji; and please stop calling me Miss Tsutsuji. Miyo is just fine." Her voice was still tense when she met his gaze. "I'm sorry, work caught up to me."

He gave her another half smile. "I guess it isn't just me who's under pressure."

"I don't know why it's getting to me. I just hate being stared at."

He took another cautious glance over his shoulder. "It wouldn't have anything to do with another little model sitting across the room, who's staring you down, would it?"

"She was at my interview, Reiji, staring at me in much the same manor."

"That's Miss Amane," he began to explain. "She's one of Japan's favourite stars; an actress, and a model. She was held as a suspect in the Kira case a while back. Sakura TV had a thing for her, but then again, who doesn't?"

The look on Miyo's face must have said it all, because he quickly scrambled to recover. "Look, she's jealous of you, alright? You're new on the scene: everyone's new obsession. Besides, she's a little girl. Can't me more than sixteen, at best! Look at the way she's dressed. Is she trying to impress the morgue?"

They both laughed at that statement. "Reiji, you've got a dark side," she whispered.

"Only if you like it," he purred. "Forget about her. She's a little girl, you're a woman; two different playing fields. Besides, she's dating some college student. You're sitting across the table from a Vice President."

She giggled playfully. "Yeah, the Vice President of Vanity; you're something else, Reiji Namikawa."

The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. "Oops, I'm sorry, is my pride showing? It can't be because I'm enjoying my lunch hour with the most entertaining woman in the industry."

Miyo felt something she hasn't since she was thirteen: a blush creeping into her face, reddening her cheeks.

They spent the better portion of their hour in that restaurant, with the occasional glance toward the blonde model and her escort. Reiji blew it off, showing little interest in either. The last fifteen minutes, he promised to make the coffee up to her.

They sat down outside a little café, steaming cups in hand. Miyo had been overwhelmed with the amount of options they gave her, not knowing where to begin. However, Reiji stepped in for her and ordered something she barely understood. At first, she just glared at him from behind, thinking it was incredibly arrogant for him to assume she'd like it; but then appreciation took hold, because she didn't have to confront the menu herself.

"I figured you liked chocolate," he informed her. "It's something I seem to smell on you."

She lifted the cup to her lips, and was met by the sweet and luscious taste of cocoa mingled with the coffee and sugary cream. "Thank you, it's delicious." It made her crave for one of her cigarettes, which were sitting innocently in her purse. The sensation seemed to itch in her brain, slowing down time as it went. They only had ten minutes or so in each other's company, but she couldn't keep the time from dragging on.

He just sat in silence, watching the people as they passed by, oblivious to her discomfort. It wasn't until he heard to flick of a Zippo lighter and the smell of the smoke that he looked over. She sat, with complete elegance, holding the cigarette to her lips. On her exhale, he could smell the chocolate laced with the tobacco. "Chocolate cigarettes," he muttered.

"Imported from Switzerland," she informed him.

He smiled a light smile. "I would expect nothing less of you, Miyo." The playfulness was back in his voice.

She let out a breath of relief. She didn't know how he would react to it. 'It seems like another expression of class. He completely relaxed when he found out they were Swiss chocolates.' She concluded that it wasn't something completely unheard of, for people of status to take up smoking. The press just ignored it.

Once she had smoked the fag out, she simply tossed it away with a flick of her fingers.

He looked up from their table to the street. Her gaze followed, but she heard what caught his attention before she saw it. _Snap_! The shutter of a DSLR camera clicked shut as a blinding flash hit their eyes. Before she could get furious with the person hiding behind the blocky, black camera, Miyoko felt a warm pressure on her hand.

Reiji leaned over to her. "Just ignore them," he whispered. He lifted his own coffee to his lips, returning to his side of the table.

She smiled courtly before answering, "Easier said than done."

His fingers traced light patterns on the back of her hand, which did help take her attention off the obnoxious person clicking away. "I told you they would get their love story, one way or the other. What harm can it do?"

"A lot," she answered, "If you can't follow through with it. Soon I'll be made into a Delilah." Her eyes rolled at the lengths the media went to for their stories.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "We can't have that; now can we? So it's settled then. We're having a second date."

She started to protest, claiming that this wasn't a date, when he put his finger over her lips. "Give them what they want, and you'll be better off for it," he whispered.

"Alright," she answered in a clear voice. "You can take me to dinner tomorrow. I like sushi."

He chuckled lightly, pulling her hand completely into his. "Good, there's this wonderful place a few blocks from my office. Should I pick you up?"

"No," she answered. "I can meet you there. Tomorrow is a busy day for me as well." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and he smiled at her.

He wrote the directions down for her on a napkin and slid it to her. "I trust you can get there, then. I wouldn't want to be there alone waiting for a date that doesn't show up." His half hearted smile faltered, telling the story for him.

"I take there was a girl who made that mistake," she said softly.

He looked her in the eye. "Let's not talk about our past relations, alright?" His thumb brushed against her skin gently.

She looked down at her coffee cup. "Alright," she sighed. She wouldn't want him to know about Derrick, if he counted. "I don't blame you, Reiji."

His hand brushed her cheek. "By the looks of things, I'm not the only one hurting." His eyes shone with an intensity she hadn't seen before.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she glanced at the time and stated, "Shouldn't you be getting back to work, Reiji?"

He took another sip of his almost empty coffee cup and glanced at his watch. "You're right. Shall I take you somewhere?" he asked.

As if on cue, her Eclipse pulled up to the curb. "No, but thank you, my driver's already here." The smile on her face told him to just go with it.

He got up and took one glance at her driver, with his loose blonde hair and packaged in shiny black leather. "Should I feel threatened by him?" he asked with honesty. He held a hand out to her, willing to help her stand.

Miyo just laughed pointedly, wrapping her fingers around his. "I don't think he's worth the worry," she answered. "He's a complete pain in my ass."

He guided her to the car. "If you say so," he chuckled. "I shall see you tomorrow, as soon as I'm off; around six."

She nodded before sliding into the car next to Mello. Reiji closed the door and smiled as they drove away.

Mello looked at her, his eyes shielded by his sunglasses. "In case you didn't notice, I bugged your phone."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Why are you just now telling me?"

"You called me a pain in the ass," he stated. "That was very interesting, Miyo."

"Well, what can I say," she growled.

"He's boring as hell," Mello stated, tearing open a chocolate bar. Once the corner was devoured he continued, "But that Misa Amane seems interested in you."

"You know all that I know," she informed him. "Probably more, since you have your nose in the crotches of everyone around you."

He slammed on the breaks at a stoplight as pedestrians flooded the intersection. "Again with you and the crotches," he mumbled, taking another bite off the chocolate bar. "She's just an actress, not all that bright. She follows Light Yagami around, who was probably the guy she was dining with."

"I just find it strange that she was at the restaurant we went to." She lit another cigarette and pulled the first dreg into her system.

"Why," he asked, urging her car onto the highway. "She's got to maintain her own image. Being seen there means she still has an edge. Bringing her boy toy," he added venomously, "is just a stunt to show everyone she's off the market."

"You seem to not like the boy toy," she stated.

"How I feel about Yagami makes Matt's hatred for you look like puppy love," he growled.

"She was accused for the Kira investigation," Miyo stated, trying to distract him.

"Light was right there with her, under the microscope. He's been the main suspect for the entire ride."

"So much for that," she mumbled. "Take me home, driver."

He pulled his gun on her again. "I wouldn't go any further with that one, Mi."

"You know, Mell, you keep pulling that on me, it's going to start turning me on." She turned a little more toward him, looking the gun straight down the barrel, making her point.

"I'd pull back the hammer, but now that the asshole is out of your life, I know you're looking for your adrenaline fill; I'm not quite sure I'm ready to fill those shoes," he sneered. "I haven't decided on keeping you, pet." His accent really popped with that one, making her slap him on the shoulder.

"Then you won't mind me getting my own apartment," she smirked.

"Fuck no," he snapped, putting the gun back in his pants. "You're not being let out of my sight." He chose to ignore the stinging in his shoulder.

"Then I'm guessing you weren't just listening to me, you were watching us, too."

"As best as I could see. Tell me, when he leaned in, did he kiss you?" Mello's eyebrow arched at her over his shades.

"Are you jealous, Mello?" she teased. "Does the fire burn inside of you when you think of someone else sitting across from me?"

He shoved her sideways. "Why the hell would I be jealous of some white collar douche bag?"

"He's got the balls to do something you can't," Matt offered from the back.

Miyoko glanced back to see the brunette laying across the seat, hand held game lighting up his face in the shadows.

"Don't make me fucking shoot you, Matt," Mello growled.

"What the fuck," she hissed, glaring at both of them.

Matt just ignored her. "Don't blame me; the sexual tension between the two of you is so tangible, you can cut it with Miyoko's knife. Just fuck her and get it over with. We'll all be better for it."

"This time," she growled, "I'm going to fucking kill you. I'll slit your throat, I promise, you filthy bastard."


	13. Chapter 13

The trio walked through the door in an awkward silence. Matt looked smug, revelling in the glory of unhinging both of his roommates. Mello couldn't look Miyo in the eye; not that she'd noticed. She stormed straight into her bedroom and slammed the door, leaving her glitter stilettos at the door.

"How the hell does she walk in these things," Matt asked, plucking one off the floor.

"I'm going to shove your ass in them, and you'll fucking find out," Mello growled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Matt looked at him, dropping the stiletto. "Me; what the hell is wrong with you? You're trying to tell me that keeping her is beneficial to us, yet she contributes nothing to the case, annoys the shit out of both of us on a regular basis, physically assaulted us, turned her back on us, and got us to commit murder. Don't you dare lie and tell me you're not thinking with your dick."

Mello shoved him against the wall. "She's doing her share for this case, damn it. She doesn't annoy me, she annoys you for reasons not entirely stacked in her favour; reasons she had no control over. She assaulted us to protect herself, and he would have killed her. I wasn't going to let that happen."

Matt glared defiantly. "What does her life matter to you, she's just another urchin. Letting him kill her would have taken her off our hands. That's your penis talking."

Mello released his grip on his friend, walking away entirely. He was visibly shaking with rage. He has never allowed his hormones to influence his lifestyle, especially when it comes to something that means as much to him as the Kira case. Sure, if he felt trapped in the clutches of his own insatiable lust, he'd seduce some poor little thing and wreck havoc with her, but never would he draw it out in such a manor. That Matt could even suggest such a thing was downright infuriating. Perhaps _he _would, but that is something Mello considers crossing the line.

Mello stopped walking outside Miyoko's door. He didn't hear any audible noises muffled through the wood. This was a good sign; she wasn't screaming, she wasn't throwing things, she wasn't talking to anyone. She was just silent inside her room, possibly contemplating murder.

He took a deep breath before knocking on the frame. "Are you okay?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he pushed open the door. He stepped into the space, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness after he closed the door behind him.

She was sprawled out on the bed, crushing wrinkles into the silk blouse she was wearing. "Please, tell me Matt's a fucking idiot."

He sat down on the bed. "Matt's a fucking idiot," he stated flatly.

"Then why are you here," she wondered, "if you're not going to confirm what he said. I figured you'd leave me alone to simmer."

"That's the problem, Miyo. Letting you simmer would allow you to plot murder. I can't allow you to kill Matt."

"By the sounds of it, you had that base covered," she remarked. "You're not a quiet assailant, are you?"

"It pissed me off," he stated. "In case you haven't noticed, pissing me off is counter productive."

"There are a lot of things about you two that are counter productive," she grumbled. She covered her eyes in the crook of her arms.

He plopped down on the bed next to her. "You're not much better, Usagi. You spend your days shopping, on lunch dates, in interviews, gossiping, being gossiped about, and being photographed."

"You're the one who turned me into this pampered Barbie doll bitch, Mell. I'm not exactly happy with this. I don't know what to say, I don't know how to act. I'm stuck in a foreign environment."

"You do fine," he flatly assured her. "You charmed Reiji, didn't you?"

"Wasn't exactly hard to do," she answered. "If you smile in all the right places he's happy."

Mello attempted a shrug, but was too buried in her duvet. "Like I said, he's a boring douche."

She sat up. "I don't think he's a douche," she objected, poking him in the shoulder. "I think he's nice."

"You're kinda his girlfriend, Mi. You're not supposed to think he's a douche." He pushed himself off the bed.

"And you're what," she snarled, "the guy who points out to the girl that her boyfriend's a douche so she'll leave the douche for him?"

He took her wrists violently in his hands, forcing her back onto the bed. "Both you and Matt need to realize, if I wanted you, I could have taken you a long time ago," he growled. She squealed and squirmed underneath him, but he tightened his grip and leaned closer to her. "You'd protest at first, but then it'd blow your mind."

She shifted her knee to knock into him in a rather delicate area. He shifted his weight to bring himself out of her reach before pinning her down further with his hips. She looked him over, and realized that this was the same cold, calculating Mello who interrogated her when she first got there. He knew what he wanted, and got his way, regardless of the method he used to get it.

"Alright, Mell, you've made your point. You can get off of me, damn it."

"Will you stop assuming I want you?" he hissed.

She smirked at him, "No." His grip tightened on her in warning, his body lowered. "Mello, you're hard."

He glared into her eyes while the physical evidence of her statement pulsed against the leather confining it. He could smell her cigarette smoke; the chocolate it contains. That just made it worse.

"You're cutting off the circulation in my wrists, Mello."

"You assaulted my groin. You can live with a little discomfort." He shifted his grip on her just so, bringing her hands together in one of his hands.

"I didn't touch your groin," she protested. "You're sitting on me. You deserve a little discomfort."

He pulled out a semi devoured chocolate bar and bit off a segment. "You're not in the position to make me uncomfortable, even if there was a way for you to do it."

"Fuck you, Mello; get off me." Miyo squirmed under his weight. "You're not doing anything to prove Matt wrong." Her eyes narrowed in a tedious glare, challenging his dominance.

"Get it through your head; I'm not attracted to you. I will never be attracted to you. I refuse to entertain the idea of it."

"You're not exactly my top pick either, buddy," she said with a growl. "You disgust me."

She found his knife cutting into her throat. "You just don't know when to stop while you're ahead, do you?" he hissed.

"Hn," she grunted, refusing to wince at the stinging pressure. "I guess that's another thing I have in common with you. You're a monster. Get the fuck off of me." She dug her knee into his abdomen with more force than she knew was necessary.

"What the fuck, Mi?" he wheezed. His face contorted as he winced in pain, rolling onto the mattress.

"I've been meaning to ask you the same damn think, Mihael. What's wrong with you?" She pushed herself off the bed and nearly vaulted to the door. "I'd expect this from Derrick; you claimed to be better than that."

Her words stung long after she shut the door behind her. Mello crashed into her pillows, staring up at the dark ceiling. "What the fuck?" he mumbled.

Matt opened the door, grin in place. "Miyo just stormed," he informed Mello. "That was… something. I don't think I've ever seen Miyoko that unsettled."

"Shut up, Matt." Mello turned onto his side before allowing gravity to roll him onto his feet. "I can't think straight."

Matt just rolled his eyes, but knew when to keep his mouth shut. His arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the doorjamb. "I'll refrain from saying I told you so."

"God damn it, Matt. She provoked me. I'm not attracted to her." He threw a punch into the wall next to his friend's head.

Matt put his hands on Mello's shoulders. "Calm the fuck down," he warned. "You're not attracted to her; that's great. She's driving toward Tokyo faster than I ever thought she'd have the balls to drive. What are we going to do about it?"

"Let her run to him," Mello growled. "Let her fucking run. She can't stay away forever. We know where she is, where she's going, and what she'll be doing. She's expecting us to follow. Paranoia will eat her from the inside out."

Matt's grip on Mello slackened. "You're just letting her go?" His smirk widened. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Fuck… you…" Mello pushed past him into the hallway and on toward the living room. He took the remote into his hand, rewinding the security feed from Miyo's bedroom. The look of raw hatred and underlying fear had etched itself into her every feature. The look on her face brought shame to him, but his own fury erased it. Did she really believe he was better than Derrick? Were they not common criminals? Mello was just better at it; surviving his way to the top, fighting for his lot in life.

"So what was she doing for the case?" Matt inquired, glancing at the screen.

"Keeping tabs on Misa Amane," Mello answered. "I'm not thoroughly convinced that she's entirely innocent. Miyo has an acute sense of motive. If Misa Misa is hiding something, Miyo would find out due to her own, deep seeded hatred of her."

"How did you know she'd hate Amane?" Matt leaned against the back of the couch, lighting a cigarette.

Mello sighed. "Look at the girl. She's immature beyond belief. She dresses like a glitter doll rose from the grave. She takes everything Miyo is, and laughs at it. It would make her squirm to just sit in the same room as Misa."

Matt exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Well played, Mell. That keeps Yagami in the palm of her hand, as well. He's going to pull every scrap of information on her he can."

"If we're lucky," Mello smirked, "He'll bring her in for questioning. She's been accused of being Kira, after all."

"So that's why you had me start that rumour," Matt stated.

"It's also why I had you erase Miyoko Usagi from all kept record," he added. Light can't find her criminal side if it doesn't exist. Miyo Tsutsuji is the only person he will ever know."

Matt chuckled. "So long as he doesn't find out she has a weakness for imported chocolate cigarettes, she's fine. One of those, and she'll tell him everything."

Mello sighed. "Every person has a vice." He took another chunk off the corner of his chocolate bar, emphasizing his point.

Matt took another dreg off his cigarette. "What happens if she tells him where to find us? We're not exactly the best of friends, at the moment."

Mello just smirked sadistically. "Let him come."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Miyoko threw her Eclipse into Fourth gear as she vaulted onto the freeway. The interior of the car already had a thick fog of chocolate scented haze. Hot boxing kept the head rush longer, forcing her adrenaline levels higher. She swerved past a lone traveller, keeping her speed constant at 180 kilometres an hour.

Tokyo loomed over the highway within a seemingly short amount of time. Dawn was breaking over the eastern horizon; she must have been driving for hours. The smell of chocolate had long faded from her notice, and the craving hit at the edge of her senses, riding on her conscious mind.

She flicked open her lighter, giving into her succulent temptation. Her fury for Mello had subsided no less over the course of her road trip. Her fuel metre was almost on empty, adding to her ire. She pulled into the city's first stop light, searching for a gas station to fuel up at.

She put out her cigarette prematurely, allowing the cherry to fall to the concrete. Stomping on the glowing ember, she approached the pump. Before long, the scent of flowing fuel overcame her, and the numbers on the LCD screen rose rapidly. She finished, and threw her small purse across the car to the passenger seat. Once another fag was lit, she started the car and drove away towards downtown Tokyo.

Tokyo was slowly waking up as she drove around it's bustling streets. Merchants were opening shops she now frequented and people bustled to office buildings that littered the skyline. She passed Yotsuba and wondered briefly about Reiji, only to have the thought of him bring back the anger of her fallout with Mello. Her shoulders shook under the waves of heat that flooded her; her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

She pulled over into a parking space below a large building with a glass-façade. Her blue Eclipse reflected in the squinting sunlight. It didn't take her long to realize that these were apartments. 'He thinks he can stop me from getting my own place,' she thought angrily. 'Fuck that.'

She opened her door and stepped onto the curb. It was barely six in the morning, but that hardly stopped her from approaching. It was a building that required a code to enter, but the lobby looked respectable, trendy even.

X x X

Mello paced in front of the monitor screens while Matt fought the urge to either dial Miyo's number and demand she return, or drive down to Tokyo and drag her back by force. Mello would never approve of either of these, but having her loose in the city didn't seem like the best idea.

He knew where she was, but he had no idea what she was doing. She was a volatile, unpredictable street criminal with a purse full of money and a cell phone full of contacts to undo everything he hacked so hard to achieve. Was he ready to throw away all that hard work; oh hell no.

Mello had snapped off another piece of the third chocolate bar since he started pacing. He was irritable, unpredictable, and snappy. "She has been sitting in the same spot for over an hour. What can she possibly doing on the side of a street at seven in the morning?"

"Maybe she's sipping coffee, waiting for someone."

"Namikawa lives seven blocks away. His company is in the other direction. Why would she be waiting for him there?"

Matt sighed. "Maybe she's waiting for someone else?" he suggested. "You're not listening to her right now, so we're a little blind as to what's going on."

"I don't care," he denied. He threw himself at the couch, jostling Matt and both the phone and car keys he had been debating between using. "What the hell is this?" Mello picked up the phone, and saw Miyo's contact lighting up the screen. "Did you call her?"

"I'm thinking about it," he confessed with impatience. "All that work, for nothing? I think not. I want results from her, damn it."

"And you think I don't," Mello said. There was ice in his words. "We'll get them from her, I promise you. She will not walk away from what we created for her. She knows this life is better for her, even if she senses the impending danger with Misa and Light. We will have our case."

Matt rolled his eyes. "When has she ever done something beneficial to us of her own free will?"

"She isn't thinking," Mello sighed. "She's still infuriated."

Mello looked away; Matt looked directly at him. "Why did you push her that far?"

Mello's attention snapped back to Matt. "Why did you have to push me that far? Both of you do it; why?"

Matt sighed. "Because you're a fucking ass. You're intolerable, and in some way, it's my way of getting back at you. I don't know why she does it." He lit a cigarette and looked back at the monitors, half expecting to see her sitting at the kitchen table before reminding himself that she was in Tokyo, waiting outside some building for some reason they could not understand.

"I'm an ass," he repeated breathily. "Why am I always the ass?" He removed himself from the couch and thundered down the hallway. Matt followed his progress on screens until he disappeared into his own bedroom.

X x X

Miyo stared at the tiny, brass key in her hand. On it, numbers were engraved: 1731: the Penthouse suite. She had her own home. It was hers. No one else could take it away from her. No one can kick her out of it, because it was hers. She felt happy, and free. She felt afraid. Immediately she had a furniture ordered and shipped. Nothing too fancy yet. She was still just starting out. Her cash flow wasn't bottomless yet, and she wasn't touching Mello's credit cards.

It still felt empty and cold, but it was something, and that was a start. She had a few changes of clothing that she purchased. She slid into a scarlet dress with black lace over the supple fabric. She was determined to keep her recent dislodging a secret from Reiji. One of the "past relations" she was determined to hide from him was now Mello. She saw no reason to invite him back into her life.

She pulled out the instructions from her purse and boarded the elevator. From there, she walked the ten blocks to the sushi bar, where she would wait for her date while sipping sake in her own little both in the back. She turned her cell phone off as soon as she spotted his tall, slender figure walk through the door, tuning out Mello and Matt, should they decide to listen in.

She rose to beacon him over to her. He embraced her tenderly before sliding into the booth beside her. "You look wonderful tonight," he purred.

She smiled her courteous thank you. She poured him a small saucer of sake, which he sipped slowly.

"How many of these have you had?" he asked.

"Only two," she answered, feeling bubbly and happy for the first time all day.

"Have I kept you waiting that long?" he asked with a smile.

"It's been a long day; we'll leave it at that." She rested her hand on his, allowing the intimate touch a little more willingly than she normally would have.

He smiled at her reassuringly. "Needless to say, I'm driving you home tonight."

"Thank you," she answered.

He wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into him, deciding to trust him, just for the night. What other choice did she have? She was already beginning to feel tipsy.

X x X

Matt jostled into a frenzy when Miyo suddenly disappeared from their GPS map. Mello started screaming at him to find her, put her back online. Once Matt switched to the reserve GPS in her shoulder, Mello breathed easier for a moment. He tried to connect Mello to her phone. It wasn't long before he found out why they lost sight of her.

"She shut her phone off. We can't get anything," he explained.

"Damn it! Why does she have to make everything difficult for me?" He punched the sofa arm.

Matt sighed. "Doesn't she have a date tonight?"

"That's what I wanted to get at," Mello hissed.

"Just let her enjoy it. Maybe she wants to escape from you and get a private moment with just him. Perhaps they need a little privacy for once, damn."

"Do not reprimand me," Mello warned. "I am in no mood to put up with your shit, Matt. I don't care if she thinks her life is private. It will never be hidden from me."

"You're so determined to keep her so close, yet hold her at an arm's length," Matt sighed. "It's no wonder she hates you, if she's as confused as I am."

"Shut up, Matt. You have work to do."

"Oh god, what now?" Matt asked.

"Hack Namikawa's phone for me." Mello slouched down on the couch, pulling his right leg onto the cushion with him.

"You really are determined to meddle in her life, aren't you?"

"This woman could be my ticket to Kira, damn it. I'm not just letting her get away with this."

"Get away with what, Mello, going on a date with a rich socialite? Somehow that is threatening to everything we have done so far."

The sarcasm rode against Mello's last nerve. He threw a wayward punch at his best friend. "Shut up and get me through."

Fifteen minutes ticked by before the first jumbled words filled the room's vast silence. At first they were incoherent, and Matt realized that Miyo was completely drunk. "She's shit-faced, Mell."

"Shut the fuck up, damn it. I'm trying to listen to this."

X x X

Reiji stroked her bare arm as she brought a piece of Unagi to her lips. He was aware that now, after three more shots, she was completely gone. Her cheeks had a subtle flush to them, her speech was slurred, and she was more willing to accept his advances than he had ever seen her. Normally she gets this stone cold look in her eyes, and glares off over his shoulder. Tonight, her head was resting on it.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked softly.

She yawned before answering. "It's getting pretty late, isn't it?"

He smiled and nodded before getting up and offering her his hand. "It is. We should get you home."

She took his hand. "Alright," she submitted. "I don't want to go, though."

"I think they're closing soon," he added, looking over his shoulder at the waiters with their watchful, anxious eyes.

"Fine," she sighed. "Let's go, but don't take me home yet. I don't want to be alone." She staggered to her feet, and he caught her with grace.

He had allowed her to do all of the alcohol consuming, enjoying the new freedom his date expressed. He could tell that she had gone through stress that day, and that she was free from more than just her sobriety. Something had been liberated inside of her, and he was glad for it. The cloud had lifted from her green eyes, and her smile finally touched them. He could finally see the real Miyo.

"Alright," he agreed. "Shall we go to my place, then?"

He could see the hint of fear in her eyes at the mention of his apartment. "Don't worry, miss Tsutsuji. I want you to remember the first time."

She giggled the way only intoxicated women do, making him smile. He opened the passenger door for her and helped her in. It wasn't long before they were driving through the still busy streets of late Friday night Tokyo. Though it was only a few blocks away, it took them fifteen minutes to reach his high rise. She looked out the window in silence the whole way, sometimes staring at a particular vehicle longer than the rest. It was normally a motor bike.

Once on the top floor, she relaxed again. She was too intoxicated to really take in her surroundings, but once she discovered his bathroom, all was well. She laid down on his leather couch and closed her eyes.

Reiji called out to her softly, caressing the side of her face. Her eyes fluttered open, barely. "Are you going home tonight?" he asked softly, "Or are you staying here?"

"I don't want to move," she answered. The couch lock had finally set in.

He rolled his eyes and smiled softly. "Come on, Miyo. Luckily I'm prepared for this."

She looked at him with a puzzled expression as he pulled her to her feet. He led her past the bathroom and toward his bedroom. Once she figured out where he was taking her, she stalled.

He slowly turned around to face her, pulling her into his arms. "Miyo, will you trust me please?" She buried her face in his Armani shirt, breathing deeply of his scent. "I promise I won't take advantage of you in any way. I'm just going to get you dressed for bed. I don't even have to sleep in the same room, if you want."

She nodded her head, still buried in his chest. He pulled her though the door and guided her to his California King sized bed.

"Wait there for me, okay?" When she nodded, he disappeared behind a door. She laid back down on the mattress, closing her eyes again. When she opened them, he was standing over her with a small bag from a clothing store. The kanji swam before her eyes. She couldn't comprehend the words.

"I bought this shortly after our coffee date," he explained. "I figured someday you might need it. I didn't figure it would be so soon." He handed her the bag.

She reached inside and pulled out a blue satin night gown with lace trim. She looked at him with vulnerable eyes. "This is for me?"

He nodded with a smile. "Do you want me to leave you alone to change?" he offered. When she assented, he disappeared into his master bathroom. Shortly after she heard water running from the sink, and she began the daunting task of undressing herself.

She wiggled and writhed on the bed, completely messing up the duvet as she tried to get out of the constricting, red mess of fabric that was her dress. She caught her heels in the fabric before she remember to take them off. Once they were on the floor, it was easier to slip out of the aggravating garment. Slipping into the negligee was just as dangerous. She got lost inside the night dress, and panicked. She got dizzy and collapsed on the bed for a moment, attempting to catch her breath. Once she got her head through, she realized she had the thing on backwards.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. "I have never been this drunk." She attempted to straighten out the blanket before crawling to Reiji's plush pillows. Once the duvet was up to her chin, she relaxed again.

Shortly after, she heard Reiji call through the door, asking if she was decent. Once he had appeared, he explained, "I couldn't hear you struggling anymore. I must admit, the image I thought of was quite entertaining."

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks; partially from embarrassment, mostly from seeing her suitor standing shirtless before her wearing silk pyjama bottoms. It reminded her that she was a woman, regardless of how damaged she was. She wanted him next to her, his arms around her, holding her to his perfectly chiselled chest. She was vaguely aware of her determination to never be held by another man, but that was easily pushed aside when he asked her where he was sleeping while she was there. All she could manage was patting the pillow beside her.

X x X

Mello swore loudly. "He's touching her. He's fucking touching her. She's wearing some skimpy, teasing scrap of fabric that he bought for her out of some sick perverted fantasy that's finally coming true and she's too drunk to see it. This man is a fucking creep."

Matt inhaled his dreg. "What are you going to do about it?" He fingered the keys still resting beside him on the arm of the couch.

Mello pointed his gun at Matt. "No, she got her slutty ass into this mess, she can deal with the consequences. Let him molest her. She'd better not bitch to me about being touched by this pervert when she comes home." He tore into his chocolate bar savagely. "She's such a whore," he yelled.

Matt just took another hit and leaned back on the couch, closed his eyes and waited; both for Mello to calm down and Miyoko to heat up.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Miyoko woke up with a pounding headache, her head against pillows that smelled all wrong. She didn't dare open her eyes as she struggled to remember the night that now lay behind her. All she could remember was her hatred for Mello and the bitter taste of sake as it burned down her throat. It took her another moment to register the pressure against her stomach as Reiji's arm around her. The confusing mixture of regret and quiet satisfaction welled up inside her.

"Good morning, Miyo," he whispered in her ear. He pulled her closer to him, brushing his still silk clad leg against her bare thigh. She took that as a sign that nothing had happened between them that she wouldn't have normally approved of.

"Good morning," she answered courtly. She then looked at his clock on the night stand. "Shit, it's already ten?"

He chuckled lightly. "That's the first time I've ever heard you swear. I knew you had a bad streak in you."

"I've missed two appointments already," she explained, rubbing her forehead. "My manager is going to kill me."

"Miyo, it's Saturday," he sighed. "Take the day off. Who cares about your pretty boy manager? Have a lie in; you've earned one." He buried his face in her hair.

"You don't understand; he's got major control issues." She turned to face him. "He gets royally pissed when things don't go his way."

Reiji arched his eyebrow at her. "He needs to understand that he works for you. He doesn't control your life, he manages it. If you want to take some time to yourself, then it's his job to work around that."

She looked down at the duvet. If only it were as easy as threatening to fire Mello. Somehow, she knew that if she tried, she'd bite a forty five bullet. Her life was in his hands. She'd gain some new shrapnel for her little night out. He'd have a great time covering up that wound.

Reiji pulled her closer still to him. "You're going to be fine without him for a day. For once, you didn't check your phone every five minutes last night. You weren't constantly connected to him."

"Namikawa, you're not jealous of my manager, are you?" she accused. "You know, there's got to be a certain level of communication between us if we're going to stay on the same page."

"I am not jealous of that little boy," he stated defiantly. Miyoko could feel Mello's pride stinging for him. "He's just some punk ass who thinks he's an artist, and you're his canvas. He can't go wrong, considering you're already a masterpiece. You're probably his first client, and being that you're so irresistible, he's crossing his bounds, little by little. It won't be long before he makes inappropriate advances on you."

She let him rant a little more, even though his elevating volume was sending her headache into fits. She wanted a ginger ale and ice, maybe a nice bubble bath; at the very least, a cigarette. She watched him after he fell silent again, measuring his anger with Mello. How much had he already guessed? If only he knew what their last fallout had been over, or that she had been living with Mello for quite some time before she became this new person.

"There's something on your mind," he observed. "Do you care to enlighten me?" His hand found hers, and he gently rubbed the skin between her thumb and index finger.

"I have a massive hang over," she confessed. "My head feels like its being split right down its middle."

His brow furrowed. "Would you like water," he asked, concerned. He climbed out of the bed and crossed the room, which Miyo took in for the first time.

There was a flat screen opposite the bed; it sat on an entertainment centre that concealed many movies, as well as a mini bar. He opened it to reveal many miniature liqueurs, as well as several glass bottles of sparkling water. He grabbed two and returned to the bed before his warmth left the sheets. "This always helps me when I wake up to a morning after," he explained. He cracked one open and handed the bottle to her.

She took a sip and enjoyed the mineral water. It had a tangy taste that reminded her of lemons; she couldn't believe it was naturally carbonated. "Absolutely delicious," she commented.

"Have you tried San Pellegrino before?" he inquired. "I find it has a more flavourful finish than any other sparkling water."

"I can't say I have," she confessed. "It's definitely new to me."

He smirked and took another sip. "I'm glad you enjoy it."

She looked him in the eye. "Thank you for allowing me to stay with you last night, Reiji."

He touched the side of her face softly. "I had to make sure you were taken care of. You were so helpless, it was adorable."

She reddened at the thought of relying on him for anything. "It means a lot to me that you'd go to such lengths for my safety and comfort. I was pretty smashed last night."

He politely agreed with her. "Your safety is always my main concern next to your happiness.' He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them softly.

"Thank you so much, Reiji. I could never tell you how happy that makes me."

He smiled softly, setting his water on the night stand beside him. After taking hers as well, he pulled her back into his arms, allowing her to rest on his chest. "If I had it my way," he explained, "You would never have to worry about anything again."

She listened to his heartbeat and breathing quietly. His chest rose and fell in a soothing motion, his smell comforted her. She relaxed into his embrace, and he felt the change. He lifted her chin with a finger to look him in the eye, only for a moment before he softly kissed her lips.

X x X

Mello slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the bright light that was emitted off the monitors. Soft conversation was trailing in over their speakers, but he was too groggy to catch any of it. Matt sat in the corner, nose deep in that console of his.

"What happened," Mello demanded.

"Absolutely nothing," Matt responded flatly. He didn't even look up. "They just slept for a while, and only woke up twenty minutes ago. Miyoko's got a killer hangover, but otherwise is fine." The game's sounds filled the silence once more as

Mello mulled this over. "They slept the whole night through?"

Matt nodded in agreement. "She woke up once, but he remained asleep. The phone was sensitive enough to pick up his breathing. He must have placed it next to his pillow, or really close to it."

"He didn't take advantage of her?" Mello asked, a little slow on the intake.

Before Matt could answer, Reiji's voice did all the explaining for them. _"Your safety is always my main concern next to your happiness." _

"_Thank you so much, Reiji. I could never tell you how happy that makes me." _

"_If I had it my way, you would never have to worry about anything again."_

A mixture of rage and jealousy boiled over inside Mello. How dare another man take care of his prisoner? How dare he want her safe! She was safe with Mello. She was safer with him than she could ever be with anyone else! What could this man have to offer, a high rise pent house and everything she would ever want to become spoiled? She didn't need that. She needed Mello, no one else!

"Give me the phone," Mello demanded through gritted teeth.

X x X

Reiji was stroking her hair softly when he heard his phone ring. He lifted the phone off the charging pad and answered, "Namikawa."

Miyoko watched his expression change from business, to startled, to mild annoyance without saying a word.

"Yes, she's here. One moment, please, I'll hand you to her." He gave her his phone and explained, "Your manager is trying to get a hold of you."

She accepted the call, knowing this wasn't just him getting a hold of her; it was him saying that he heard everything, both last night and this morning, and was furious. She announced her presence, "Miyo,"

"_Come home," _Mello growled, _"Now." _

She had to be extremely diplomatic with her answers with Namikawa lying right beside her, still toying with tiny strands of hair. "I'm afraid that cannot be arranged."

"_What do you mean, cannot be arranged?" _he hissed through the receiver. _"Get your ass into that car and drive yourself home, now." _

She lowered the volume of his voice. "It can't be changed," she answered. "My mind is made up already."

"_Don't feed me that bullshit, Mi. You can't stay with that man forever. You make him happy, and that doesn't settle well with you. He's starting to actually love you. This wasn't a publicity stunt. There are no cameras inside that bedroom. He did that for himself. Worse, He did that for you." _

Miyoko stayed silent. She had been too intoxicated to see the warning signs, and couldn't remember what they were; but Mello knew. He had heard every playful advance, every warm gesture.

"Say what you will, but my day is already filled. I'm taking a day for me."

"_I will track you down, Mi," _Mello warned calmly. _"The limelight has gone to your head, and I intend to fix that." _With that he hung up on her, leaving her to sort through the meaning behind his words.

Reiji took the phone from her hands. "See, that wasn't so hard. I'm sure he's fine with you taking the Saturday off from being a celebrity."

Miyo looked at him with narrowed eyes. "He is furious with me."

"Let him be furious with you," Reiji mused. "What can he do? He works for you, not the other way around. Managers are a dime a dozen in this city, sweetheart. You can always find another one. They would bid for you like animals fighting for their next meal."

She looked down, embarrassed. "You flatter me, Reiji. I could not replace him as my manager. Mel's got a very unique flair that most people wouldn't understand. He's good at what he does; I'll put it that way."

"Obviously," Reiji stated with a smirk. "You popped up almost over night. You were all over the media, and it bombarded me because I swear I've never heard your name before."

She smiled coyly, trying to hide her nervousness. She could hear Mello in the back of her mind telling her to think on her feet and lie to him. "It was a sudden decision for us to take Japan. I got tired of the British scene and moved over here for a change of pace."

Reiji's eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "That means that you'll be going back someday, doesn't it?" He caressed her softly.

"Maybe," she shrugged. "Who knows, there's a lot of negativity in Brittan for me. If I do go back, it won't be for a while." She could feel Mello's breath being released as though it were her own. In fact, she allowed a little sigh of relief, which she hoped he took as a sigh of melancholy.

"You can tell me, if you wish," he offered.

She shook her head. "Let's not talk about past relations."

He nodded. "I understand. The past is best left behind us." He handed her the mineral water that was condensating on his night table. "Let us toast to new beginnings, then."

She lifted it out of his hand. "To new beginnings," she agreed.

X x X

Mello sat in the kitchen as his coffee brewed. Miyoko and Namikawa were still chattering on and on, bringing nothing he could use. He knew where she was, and if she made plans to go anywhere, he would know as soon as they were laid. He had her now, and she couldn't change it. It was a mistake for her to stay with that man. Namikawa put her straight back into the hands of her captor.

He relished in the thought of her internal squirming. Her actions while drunk were completely opposite of her normal patterns, and now she had to play with them. She couldn't just push him back at arms length after staying in his bed. That brought a whole new level of intimacy Mello wasn't sure Miyoko knew how to handle. She certainly never showed him a soft and cuddly side.

He thought back to her momentary lapse in character, when Namikawa mentioned her over night appearance. It was lie that was worthy of his lips, and he had Matt working to validate it now. Mello knew what Namikawa was doing with his phone. He had a ghost phone set up, showing him the exact screen that Reiji was viewing now. He had access to everything: texts, recently visited web pages, social media, news articles, business ventures. It was all at his fingertips. The only downfall was that everything he was looking at, Namikawa could see. If he started to navigate the phone while Reiji was conscious, there would be a great chance of him spooking and doing something that Mello wouldn't approve of. He didn't want that.

Mello took the coffee into the monitor room. Matt was now laying with his feet over the arm of the couch, still absorbed in his game.

"When are you going to make your move?" he asked.

Mello took a sip and paused a moment. "She won't leave for a while. If you listen, you can still hear the rustle of the bed. They aren't dressed yet, and she has to apply Miyo over the bland Miyoko. With the shower, hair, makeup, and what ever wardrobe he has for her, it's going to be a two hour venture before she's even ready to face the day. Not to mention what he has to go through to get started for his. Those raven locks don't just condition themselves, you know." He sat back on the couch. "I'll leave when they start to move. I don't want to be camped out in front of the apartment for hours."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It wasn't hard for Mello to locate the apartment with Namikawa's GPS activated. Miyo was still in the bathroom, and from what Mello could gather, Reiji took the opportunity to relieve himself of some pent up frustrations. He laughed aloud. Miyo might think the best of him, but Reiji Namikawa was still a man with manly desires and urges. Eventually he will ask of her what she is not so prepared to give.

Once finished, Namikawa left the room in silence. Mello had to assume he had left his phone on the bed while he went somewhere else. Mello hated being unable to see anything. Soon, that would be fixed. He was not alone in waiting.

"When are they going to leave?" Matt whined in frustration after the conversation picked up again. "It's been an hour since we've been here already." At his feet were bags of surveillance equipment, waiting to be installed into tight nooks and crannies inside the deluxe penthouse suite.

Mello sighed. The Chevelle was getting too small, too fast. Matt was frustrated, Mello was still angry, and they were brooding in their own steam. "That's them coming out of the elevator," he observed. They walked a respectful but intimate distance from each other, not touching, but still close. She was laughing at the cheesy joke he had just told, and he had a smile that was too arrogant to be good.

"He isn't that funny," Matt growled.

"She's playing him up," Mello reminded him. "She finds his bullshit just as daunting as we do, if not more. She's the one who has to endure all of it, alone. She can't mock him like we do. It's got to be killing her."

"Not killing her enough," Matt muttered.

Mello smirked malevolently. "That is why we have the magnum." They rounded the corner to the parking garage. "Get the fuck our and get to work. I want you in and out in less than an hour, and I want complete coverage. If he takes a piss, I want to know about it, understand?"

Matt left the car, muttering under his breath about Mello's sick perversions. Mello watched for Miyo and her escort, leaving in his black sporty imported whatever it was. Once they left the parking garage, he hit their tail, four car lengths back. The GPS showed him where they were going, even if he had lost sight of them.

Fifteen minutes of stop and go traffic later, he arrived at another apartment complex, this one slightly less grand than the one they had just left. He parked beside an oddly familiar yellow Mitsubishi Eclipse. "I thought I told you not to get a flat yet," he growled. "Doesn't she ever listen to me?"

He got out of the car and leaned against the cement wall of the underground garage. He ripped open a chocolate bar and waited. It didn't sound like Namikawa was invited to stay very long. It was another ten minutes before good byes were exchanged, and five more before Namikawa's footsteps echoed through the level he was standing on. Mello watched him pass, and Namikawa noticed. Eye contact was made without hesitation, and Mello got the distinct impression that he was disliked far more than Miyoko knew.

While under Namikawa's watchful eye, Mello turned to go inside the apartment building with a mischievous grin on his face. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw jealousy overtake Miyo's potential suitor. He saw Mello as a threat.

X x X

Miyoko turned her cell phone on and waited for the bombardment of text messages, voice messages, and missed call alerts. She discarded everything that wasn't from Matt or Mello almost immediately. That left her with two voicemails and three messages, one of which was a picture.

Without skipping a beat, the GPS on her phone flashed on. Mello was now aware that her device was powered up and running. She knew he was already here, on his way up. She saw him outside Reiji's apartment with Matt in his cherry red Chevelle. Poor Matt was probably being walked in on while bugging Reiji's apartment with surveillance equipment. The sound quality from his phone couldn't have been that great, and she knew it bothered Mello, being unable to see what was going on. They would have that changed.

Her phone rang loudly in her hand, and without checking to see who it was, she answered, "Twenty third floor, Penthouse," and hung up. She threw the device into her plush, white couch and strode to the bedroom.

She stripped free of the clothing that Reiji had lent to her and threw it on the bed. She walked into the closet and examined her own wardrobe when she heard Mello enter the apartment.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, woman," he growled. She could hear him prowling through the flat, looking for her. Doors opened and slammed shut as she pulled a soft tee shirt over her head and stepped into a pair of jeans that had rips in them.

He found her just as she had gotten the pants up over her knees. "You could warn a man when you're dressing, you know," he chastised. He openly stared at her ass, barely clad in the silk under dressings.

"Like it would have stopped you," she remarked. "If I had done that, you would have come in while my shirt was still off." She turned around to face him with a glare.

He chortled. "Yeah, and you're not wearing a bra."

"I know that's not what you're here to tell me, Mello." She pushed past him, leaving the closet for her spacious bedroom.

"Your boyfriend hates me," he informed her.

"Reiji doesn't hate you," she answered. "He just doesn't like that you think you own me." She sat down on the bed to put on a pair of black pumps that had been kicked off when she first got to the apartment.

Mello leaned against her bed's foot board. "I do own you, princess. You're my prisoner, and you can't escape me. You can try as you might, but I will always find you. There will always be a way to get to you. You can't hide from me forever."

"You can't hold on to me forever," she retaliated. "Someday you'll get tired of me, and I'll lose value to you, or what ever bull shit goes through your filthy mind that makes me useless to you. I can't spy on your Kira suspects forever."

Mello smirked. "I'll find uses for you, don't you worry about that."

"You're a suck fuck, Mell," she hissed.

He tightened the glove on his right hand. "That I may be, Mi, but you're late. I didn't fill your schedule for you to blow it off for a booty call."

She threw a small pillow at him, missing him due to his reflexes. "You know damn well it wasn't a booty call," she growled.

He leaned toward her and whispered, "Not to you, it wasn't."

This time she didn't miss. "He didn't expect anything from me."

Mello forced the pillow out of her hands and threw it across the room. "He expected everything from you. He just didn't ask it. He wanted you to come to him. I guarantee that if you had come on to him in the slightest he would have flipped you over and fucked you senseless right then and there."

She looked at him, raging and horrified. "How dare you?"

He chortled softly. "You didn't hear him masturbate to the sounds of you showering, my dear. Too bad, he only lasted ten minutes before he was finished defiling the sheets."

"You're lying," she stated flatly. She took a cigarette pack from the night stand drawer and lit a fag.

"Do you really think I would lie to you about his sexual attraction to you? He's a man, Mi, and you're a model; put two and two together here. Every man wants to fuck a model. You're his girlfriend now. I'm pretty sure the paparazzi saw you enter his apartment last night, and leave this morning. Why shouldn't he want there to be something to report about? It's going to blow up that you're serious about this guy."

He opened his phone's schedule and rearranged a few things in their shared calendar. "This means I need to schedule a lot of lunches with a lot of other guys."

"Why would you do that?" she asked, exhaling a dreg. "Wouldn't it be a bad thing if I were seeing other people while the media thinks I'm dating Namikawa?"

Mello sighed that exasperated little sigh of his. "You're missing the big picture, Mi. We're creating scandal here. They're lavishing in your little romance, sure, but they want a story. They want the drama and secrets that gossip is born from. They're already tired of showing Misa and Yagami, and it's only been a month. No one cares anymore. It's all old news. They want something fresh."

She rolled her eyes. "Does this have anything with Reiji hating you?"

He laughed darkly. "It has everything to do with him hating me. I can't exactly parade you on my arm around the city streets to make him jealous. That would do nothing for your career, and put me in far more limelight than I desire."

"Why do you hate this guy?" she inquired.

"He's a douche," he answered flatly. "There's really no need to explain that. It's the way he looks like he's trying to control you."

"You mean control me the way you do?" she accused.

Mello glared intently at her. "In case you haven't noticed, I cannot control you. You seem to have this annoying habit of thinking for yourself."

She took a deep dreg on her cigarette before flicking the ash into a crystal ash tray and leaving the burning fag in its place. "Good, you need someone to irritate you once in a while. It keeps your massive ego in check."

He pinned her down to the bed aggressively. "You need someone who can keep you in check, Mi. You're going to get yourself into trouble that you can't get out of. There is something severely sickening about the way you think you're invincible. You need to be put into place."

She glared at him. "This is what got you in trouble in the first place, Mihael." There was venom in her words.

"No, Mi; the reason you get into this kind of trouble at all is because you're a fucking tease. You talk shit, you're far too headstrong, but when you're confronted by a strong male, you get all vulnerable and that trash talking bad ass goes right out the window. Every time Derrick tried to rape you, he was trying to put you in your fucking place. I understand now why he tried so hard to pin you down."

Miyoko glared up at him. "You really think so," she challenged. "You think you have it all figured out, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. You're going to do something to harm me physically to assert your dominance, and only get hurt more." He shifted his weight so his knee was on her abdomen and moved his hands to her shoulders. "I'll even give you the use of your arms back, Mi," he taunted.

Her eyes narrowed furiously. She fisted her fingers through his hair violently and pulled his face to hers. He had expected her to try to pull him off her, so he had leaned toward her instinctively, emphasizing the movement. His lips crashed onto hers, and she could feel his shock.

Immediately he pulled away. "What the fuck, Mi?" he shouted.

"I thought you had me all figured out," she growled. "You talk shit like a man, but when you're faced with it, you just run away."

He removed his knee from her abdomen and threaded his fingers through her hair. He pulled her off the bed and back to his lips, which dominated hers. He bit her lower lip, giving her no doubt that she belonged to him. He tasted of rich chocolate and coffee. When he finally pulled away, he looked her into the eye coldly and stated, "You're not the only one who can play dirty, Mi." He pinned her hands above her head on the bed and assaulted her neck with tiny bites. "You'll find I can win this game, as well."

"Seems like we're stuck in this rut, then," she grumbled. She squirmed away from him. "You can stop that, now."

He bit her harder than prior, causing her to wince. "You started this, Mi; you're going to see it through. Otherwise, you're the one running away."

X x X

Matt looked at the clock on the wall in the lobby of Namikawa's apartment. Mello was half an hour late. The front doors slid open to reveal Reiji Namikawa himself as he walked through the threshold. He glanced at Matt momentarily before asking, "Are you waiting for someone?"

Matt grunted. "Yeah, and he's late." He reburied his face back into his video game. "Mell has no sense of time."

"Condolences," Reiji offered. "Hopefully he will be here soon."

Matt just grunted in response as Namikawa boarded the elevator. He knew that Reiji just wanted to know what the deal was with the seemingly homeless kid sitting in the lobby. Matt would bet money that he hoped it wouldn't become a habit. Another ten minutes dragged by and Matt pulled out his phone in frustration.

X x X

Mello rolled over slightly to find his phone amongst the discarded clothing lying on the floor. He slid the bar to unlock his phone, only to hear Matt's angry voice on the other side. _"Where the hell are you? Namikawa just walked in ten minutes ago! You're forty minutes late."_

"Am I?" he answered, glancing down into Miyoko's lusty eyes. "I'm almost done here, I promise."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Better not be," she muttered.

"_I don't know what the fuck you're doing-"_

"Trust me, Matt, you really don't want to know," he smirked before hanging up. He looked back down at Miyoko. "I believe we were doing something before we were so rudely interrupted."

XxX

Matt received the text that Mello was outside half an hour later. He threw his game console haphazardly into his messenger bag as he walked out the automatic doors. Finding the Chevelle was easy. The cherry red car glistened in the sunlight, and he could barely see Mello amongst the black leather seats.

"What the fuck were you doing?" he demanded when he got into the car.

Mello didn't even look at him. "I already told you; you really don't want to know." He threw the car into drive and zipped down the street, weaving in and out of traffic effortlessly.

Matt rolled his eyes. "She must be in pretty bad condition for you to have kept yourself busy for-" He stopped right there and looked at his best friend. "You didn't."

Mello just smirked. "I told you, Matt, you didn't want to know."

He shook his head and cracked the window. "It's about fucking time. The two of you should make it a regular thing."

Mello chuckled. "As a royal fuck you to Namikawa, I just might."

Matt sent him a look of understanding. "So that's what this is about. Her sharing a bed with him first bothered you."

"I'm not bothered by him sharing a bed with her. Besides, I bedded her first."

Matt could see when Mello's defensive walls went up, and they just peaked. "Mello, you're keeping this strictly professional, aren't you?"

"I just had sex with her," he stated bluntly. "Is there any fucking professionalism in that?" He turned sharply onto the highway, speeding down towards Yokohama.

"Depends," Matt answered. "Is there a purpose in the sex other than to relieve yourself, get back at a man who wants to bone the woman, or prove your dominance over her?"

"It's one more way to keep her with us," he answered truthfully.

"You're an arrogant bastard," Matt replied. "Do you really think you're good enough to keep her there on your performance alone?"

Mello shook his head. "She was a virgin, Matt."

A sadistic grin spread on Matt's face. "You're going to hell, Mello. You defiled a virgin, just to keep her by your side? She's going to get attached to you in such a way; I don't think you can handle it. You don't take virginity without understanding the power of freakish attachment."

"If it keeps her away from Namikawa, she'll be fine. Besides, she'll get over it when it's all said and done. I haven't decided if she survives our encounter or not."

"You're going to hell for sure, Mihael, and she's going to be right there waiting for you."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Miyoko sat on her bed at the hide out in silence as she waited for Matt and Mello to return. Anxiety and regret took hold in her stomach at what she had just done. He held Derrick at bay for so long, just to allow an arrogant fuck like Mello to take what little innocence she still had. "Better him than someone else," she sighed to herself. "At least I know he's trying to hurt me. I'd rather it be someone who wore it right on their sleeve than someone pretending to care."

They had taken a shower at her apartment, which he allowed her to keep for the sake of appearances, but she had taken another when she arrived to wash away the residue of his touches. She knew there would be more to come, and once Matt found out, she was doomed to die of embarrassment, but for now, she settled with trying to scrub herself clean of Mello.

She heard them enter through the kitchen door, neither speaking. That could only mean that Mello told him. They passed by her door, Mello without a glance; Matt with an all knowing stare.

"It's about damn time," he whispered to her.

She threw the clock at him, which missed and shattered against the wall in the corridor. Mello shouted something at her, presumably an order to clean up the mess, but she didn't care. "Go die, Matt."

Her phone vibrated on the bed, some number she didn't know appeared on the screen. She slid the lock bar and answered, "Tsutsuji."

"_Hello, Tsutsuji-san," _a high pitched, annoying female voice responded. "_This is Misa Amane." _

"Good afternoon, Misa. To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?" She tried to mask her hatred for the girl, as well as her overall anger.

"_I was hoping that the two of us could get together soon and have a girl's night out, you know, for the press." _

Miyoko rolled her eyes. "Sounds lovely," she answered with as much sincerity as she could muster. It sounded a little flat in her ears, but hopefully Misa was too ditzy to notice. "I'll have my manager get a hold of yours to schedule a date."

"_That won't be necessary," _she interjected. _"You can just contact me." _

"Then he will get back to you as soon as he can with potential times. Good bye, Misa Amane."

"_Have a nice day, Miyo Tsutsuji." _

Miyoko looked at Mello, who was standing in her doorway. "It was only a matter of time before she called you."

"I don't think this has anything to do with her wanting more press attention," Miyoko stated flatly. "I think there's more to it."

Mello's eyes narrowed as he bit into his chocolate bar. "I think you're right," he answered. "I'd go as far to say it has more to do with her boyfriend's fascination with you."

"What does Yagami have to do with me?" she asked, lighting a cigarette.

"How many times must I tell you not to smoke those inside?" he growled.

She took a rebellious dreg and inhaled it. "Fuck you, Mello."

His eyebrow twitched in irritation. "Light has finally realized that there may be some merit to those rumours that you may be involved in the Kira case," he explained. "The Yotsuba Corporation is under the microscope, and you're now dating Reiji Namikawa. He's using Misa Amane to validate those claims for him before he has you taken into custody himself."

She exhaled a plume of chocolate scented smoke. "I'm guessing you're going to use this to get a closer look at the Yagami bastard, as well."

"Bet your ass, sweetheart," he growled. "If he's going to cross my territory, then I'm going to step into his."

"Has Misa ever seen you, Mello?"

Mello arched an eyebrow, swallowing another bite of chocolate. "No, she has not. Light Yagami will have a description of me, however; we captured one of the task force members back in L.A., and he would have the description of Matt as well."

"You're going to make this difficult for me, Mell. You're going to find that going balls to the wall isn't always the best way to go." She put out the dying ember of her fag in an ashtray.

"You have to work with what you've got," he answered. "You're quick on your feet; you'll think of something."

"She's going to ask who my manager is, Mello. I can't have a suspicious answer. I'm sure Light has come to expect shenanigans such as this from you. I know I have."

Her remark angered Mello in the slightest, but he kept his cool façade. "Light doesn't have a clue what I'm going to do next, and neither do you," he stated calmly. "This meeting with Misa is a necessary evil for both of our causes."

"I don't have a cause, Mello; it's all you!" she reminded him. "I never wanted to be a celebrity. You need me to keep an eye on this annoying bitch and her meddling boyfriend."

"I can't prove anything yet, but I think Light Yagami is Kira," he informed her. "Be very careful with Misa. If she's in on it, she can be just as dangerous as he is."

Miyoko's eyes widened. "How is he doing it?" she asked.

"That's where I can't prove anything. I don't know. That's why I need you."

Miyoko lay back on the bed. "What can I do?"

Mello sat on the bed beside her. "For starters, don't give too many details about your personal relation with Reiji. We want them to suspect your new boy toy. Every so often, steer the conversation in a completely different direction. I can guarantee that Light is going to be in Misa's ear, so we'll be in yours if you need us. If you tap your jawbone, we'll tell you what to say next; don't do it too often or you'll give it away. Make it a natural movement. We'll always be close, so don't worry too much about it."

"This is going to suck; she's such a ditzy little girl."

"It's going to be a small step down on your social ladder, but if the press enjoys it, it will guarantee a casting with the two of you together in one of the next major movies. We need to keep an eye on her, Mi; don't forget that. It's important that she likes you."

"Her eyes are freaky," she complained. "They're blank, like she's looking dead at you, but not seeing anything. She'll often look above the heads of people like there's something there she's trying to focus on."

"She is spacey," he agreed. "You're just going to have to put up with it. Shallow or not, she's asking for your time and is vital to our purpose. You're doing this." He pulled out his phone and started skimming through the calendar. "We don't want to seem too desperate, but we can't make her feel unimportant to us. You have an opening on Tuesday, and we can push your dinner date with Reiji back an hour if we need to. You have all afternoon with her. It was originally for shopping, as models need to keep up on the trends you know."

She rolled her eyes again. "Mello, you're rambling."

He looked up at her. "Lunch and shopping Tuesday afternoon; does that sound good to you?" he asked.

"That's as good as it's going to get," she answered truthfully, "Just so long as I don't have to dress like her."

He chuckled. "I don't think I would let you if you tried. It's bad for business."

Miyoko looked at him. "How old is Miyo Tsutsuji?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Early twenties; we never gave a definitive answer to your age, just that you're old enough to not have any limitations. When you dress the part, you look an easy twenty three."

"Why is a twenty three year old woman parading around with a sixteen year old girl?" she asked.

"That's the industry for you, Mi. Older women try to seem younger, and the young ones want to seem more mature. It's an odd cycle to go through; you spend all your time trying to grow up, and when you finally do, you try to turn back the clock."

"Now I'm old?" she asked, annoyed.

He released another exasperated sigh. "Shut the fuck up, Mi. You're supposed to be sophisticated; a lady. "

"You knew from the start that I was never a lady," she hissed. "Get out of my room."

"I will remain as long as I want," he reprimanded. "Clearly there's a lady somewhere inside that emotional baggage, because I'm sure if you showed Namikawa what we see every day, he'd run away from you."

"You're a git," she spat.

He rolled his eyes and dialled Misa Amane's number on his phone. "Hello, Miss Amane?" he asked smoothly. "This is Miss Tsutsuji's manager. I just finished looking over her schedule for the next week, and the soonest opening we can make is Tuesday afternoon. Does this work for you?"

He paused for an answer, his eyes shifting to Miyoko lying on the bed before him. She'd never heard his voice so seductive before. Misa was probably swooning on the other line, tripping over herself to accept his offer. Miyoko could hear her garbled, high pitched, fluttering voice through his receiver, though she could not make out her words.

"I understand," he answered. "It won't be a problem for her at all. Yes, that would be an appropriate rendezvous location. Yes, I can speak French." He rolled his eyes sarcastically at Misa's interjecting answers. "Yes, she will meet you there around two."

He paused again, allowing Misa a longer response. "It does not matter to me what the two of you decide to do. So long as you have her back before six, all is well."

Miyoko could hear Misa asking him a question.

Mello smiled coyly. "Don't tell anyone I told you, Miss Amane, but I cannot resist. She has a date with Reiji Namikawa that night. No, I haven't a clue where he's taking her; some place hot, I'm sure." He looked back at Miyoko. "Maybe Miyo could tell you more about it."

There was more whining from the other end, begging for Mello to tell her more, Miyoko was sure. "No, I can't tell you that. I simply don't know. I must be going now; I am a very busy man. Good day, Miss Misa."

He hung up the phone without waiting for her response. "It's settled," he informed her, his voice back to its normal growl. "There's a small, high end shopping centre a walking distance from the channel four studios where Misa is shooting her current project where you two will meet. I'll program it to your GPS. From the sounds of it, you'll be doing the driving. I don't think she even knows how."

Miyoko rolled her eyes. "Probably not, Mell; they don't give out licences to little kids."

He smirked at her. "I'm fairly sure not having a licence ever stopped you from driving anywhere."

"She's not a common criminal," Miyoko reminded him.

"No," he agreed, "She just has a sick fetish for them."

"Says the man whose shot at me more than once," she answered.

"Will you stop the damn arguing, Mi? You're distracting me."

She threw another pillow at him. "How the hell am I distracting you, Mell, and from what?"

"You just are, and none of your damn business. You're too nosy for your own good, d'you know that?" He threw it back at her.

She caught it out of reflex. "It's not my fault you're thinking with your dick now," she muttered under her breath. "If you weren't so insatiable, you wouldn't have that problem."

"Is that a complaint about my stamina?" he inquired. "Last time I checked, you wanted more." He crawled over her lying form, hovering inches above her body.

He watched the heat rush to her face and chuckled. "Someone so vain, so proud, yet you still blush like a school girl. I'm going to have to change that."

XxX

Matt glanced back up at the monitors before him briefly. He shuffled around the couch for a moment, searching for the clicker. He turned the monitor off that received video feed from Miyoko's room and inserted headphones into his ears, cranking the volume up on his video game.

"Close the fucking door!" he shouted back towards them. He watched the hall feed for the door to violently slam shut. "This isn't going to complicate our living arrangement at all," he muttered to himself sarcastically.

He focused on the game intently for the next two hours, refusing to glance at the monitors longer than a few short seconds to make sure everything was normal. Even with the feed shut off from Miyoko's room, he didn't want to see them venture to the bathroom together for the after coitus clean up, or watch them while they did it.

XxX

Misa hung up her phone and set it on the table beside her. "Well that was rude," she commented. "He just hung up on me."

Light looked at her quizzically, turning from his computer. "He?" he inquired. "I thought you said that Miyo was going to call you."

"I told her to, but she said that her manager would contact me instead. He sounded totally dreamy," she sighed.

Light just turned back to his work in silence, the ticking of his keystrokes filling the room. He just ignored her swooning.

"Not that he could ever compare to you, Light. They're probably sleeping together, anyway." She collapsed on the couch and rested her chin on the arm, looking at him.

"What makes you say that?" Light asked. He looked up again from his computer.

She sighed softly. "It was all in his voice. He could have any woman he wanted."

"What makes you think he wants her? He works for the woman. That's highly unprofessional."

"That kind of thing happens all the time, Light. We're celebrities. We don't exactly stick to the same morals as everyone else." She watched him for a while. "What are you doing over there, silly head? You're going to work yourself to death."

"I'm pulling up the conversation you just had. I want to analyze the male voice you just spoke with." He watched the screen intently.

"Do you really think she's got something to do with the other Kira?" Misa asked.

"The evidence is stacked against her. You said yourself that she's using a fake name. We can't find anything on Miyoko Usagi. It takes power to erase someone completely off the map. I'd bet anything that one of the men in the Corporation is her manager, if it isn't Namikawa himself."

"So how will you know?" she asked.

He typed furiously. "I'm running a voice match against every member of the Yotsuba Corporation we have data on," he informed her. "It may take a while for it to run through the database."

They waited; him in silence; she had started singing softly to herself. She had taken up doodling aimlessly on a note pad. She wasn't very good at it, but it kept her occupied. Light was still sifting through audio data when it confirmed a match.

"Well, that's unexpected," he stated.

Misa perked up. "What happened?" She scrambled to his side. "What's going on?" She looked at the flashing green message box on his screen, but couldn't believe what it said.

"The voice belongs to Mello," he stated in disbelief.

Misa gasped, then squealed in disgust. "Eww, I was attracted to him!" She made a sour face and pranced in a circle, waving her hands frantically. "Gross, he called me! What is she doing with a guy like that?"

Light chortled softly. "It certainly reveals a lot about this woman. She's more dangerous than we expected."

Misa stopped in her tracks. "Are you going to kill her, Light?" she asked innocently.

"No, Misa, she will not die. She has done nothing wrong, that can be proven. For all we know, she is his hostage, forced to walk the path she is on or face death. He is capable of many great evils, and wouldn't stop at killing her for what he wanted."

"Why don't you just kill Mello?" she asked. "I could find his name for you."

"It would give me away," he answered flatly. "L and Near would take that as a sign of guilt; of panic. I cannot allow that to happen. He will die in his own time, I promise you." He looked at the flashing box on the screen. "You will fall into my trap, Mello; you and your little façade, Miyoko."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Miyo sipped her frilly, chocolaty coffee drink in silence. It was only one thirty, but she had nothing better to do than to wait at the coffee shop outside the shopping centre. There was some creep following her again, but then again, when did she ever have some privacy in public? It was just another way that Mello kept tabs on her. He had a subscription to every tabloid in Tokyo that he picked up once a week at an office box in Yokohama. He claimed it was to keep up on what was being said about her.

"Miss Tsutsuji," the photographer called.

She sighed. He was alone. It was a Tuesday afternoon. Most people figured there was nothing going on for celebrities on an early weekday. "What," she answered.

"A few questions, if you please," he responded, getting closer.

"You have ten minutes," she assented.

He sat down in front of her, pulling out a notepad and pen as well as a voice recorder.

"A few rules before we get started," she commented. "You are not allowed to touch me. You may not ask me about my past. I am not afraid to alert the authorities should you harass me. You may proceed."

He nodded, glanced at his notebook, and cleared his throat. "Why did you decide to come to Japan?" he asked.

"I was tired of London," she answered. "I wanted to go somewhere vastly different. No where in Europe would suffice for me. The States were out of the question; Americans annoy me to no end. I wanted to be somewhere modern and up to date. Tokyo just seemed more exciting."

Without skipping a beat, he asked, "Has it lived up to your expectations?"

She nodded. "Undoubtedly it has; London has a quaint, old world charm about it mixed with what is trying to be twenty first century, but it simply is not."

"Do you intend to stay here?" He scribbled down on his notepad something she cared not to read. He was repeating a lot of Reiji's questions.

"For a while, at least," she answered. "I might find a few reasons to stay."

He chuckled coyly. "Would one of those reasons be Reiji Namikawa?"

"He might be among them," she admitted, folding her arms against her chest and leaning back in her chair. "He isn't the only one."

"How would you describe your relationship with him?" He looked up at her expectantly.

"Hmm," she sighed. "It has potential. He's definitely made a lasting impression."

"Most of your other love interests in the past were no more than a fling. What makes him so special? Why has he stuck around for so long?"

She chuckled softly. "He has a certain charm; a flair hat most men don't have. He's a perfect gentleman, yet has a daring streak about him."

"Is he a bad boy at heart?" the man asked, curious.

"I wouldn't go that far," she sighed, "But he doesn't stick to boundaries set by the perceptions of others. He sees the world a little differently than most. It's a wonderful thing," she paused to take another sip of coffee, "Especially in a vice president."

"Just out of curiosity, Tsutsuji-san; what are you drinking?" He began to chew the end of his pen eagerly, which disgusted her.

She arched an eyebrow. "Its mocha late double shot with a sprinkle of powdered sugar."

"It helps your fans connect with you on a more personal level," he explained. "It gives them insight into who you really are; the mind behind the beauty."

"I see," she answered. She set it back down on the table.

His eyes narrowed as he finally dared to broach the topic he was truly curious about. "Where do you stand on the Kira issue?" he asked with caution.

"I don't," she answered. "Honestly I don't know what to believe. To think that one person, or even a group of people, have the power and organization to get to all these known criminals is astounding. These men are roaming the streets, or are behind bars. To think someone can infiltrate the incarceration centres across Japan makes me feel unsafe. If they can get in, who's to say the killers can't get out?" It was a well rehearsed answer that Mello himself had devised for her. _"You are to stick to this statement exactly," _he warned.

The reporter blinked before continuing. "There are rumours that you are romantically connected to the man who is Kira. Is this true?"

She laughed. "Are you accusing one of the most powerful men of being Kira?" she asked. "The only person I am involved with is Reiji Namikawa."

He chuckled before pausing the recorder. "Your body posture says you're lying, miss Tsutsuji."

"I don't believe that's any business of yours," she responded. "Your time is up, mister. Take your materials and leave. I have a prior engagement with a friend."

"It wouldn't happen to be your other lover, would it?" he asked. "You can tell me."

"It isn't," she answered. "I'm meeting Misa Amane for a little girl time."

He smiled and nodded, with a malevolent glisten in his eye. "What ever you say, miss Tsutsuji?" He walked away without another word. He didn't look back or snap another picture of her.

'There's your scandal, Mell,' she thought to herself. 'Eat your heart out.' She took another sip of her coffee and watched the traffic absently. It wasn't long before a familiar black coupe pulled into the parking lot, and the tall, sleek figure of her lover came into view.

"I wasn't expecting to see you before six," she confessed.

"I must apologize," he smiled, "But I could not resist. I saw you here with that urchin and I had to come to your rescue. It seems you don't need me. You sent him on his way without much trouble." He sat in the seat next to her, placing his hand over hers.

"He got what he had wanted from me," she informed him. "I allowed a brief impromptu interview, and he asked the questions his public wanted to know."

"How long before he asked about Kira?" he asked, seeing the pattern before she had.

"He waited until the very end," she answered.

"Typical," he muttered. "That's all those vultures can think of right now. They're frightened. They look to us for stability, when most of the socialites are shaken to the core as well. Not many of us lead clean, perfect lives like the world thinks we do. Those in the public eye feel more fear than most, simply because our sins are out there for the world to see."

"I know that," she sighed, looking at the Styrofoam cup sitting before her. "Perhaps more than most."

"The past is behind us," he told her, squeezing her hand. "There's no need to bring it up now."

She sighed. "It's good to see you," she confessed, leaning against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He shifted an arm around her, holding her to him with care. "I'm happy to hear that. I was happy to see you as well, before concern set in."

She chuckled softly. "Your chivalry is commendable."

"Might I ask what you are doing here?" he inquired. "Aren't you normally busy with salon appointments, photo shoots, and interviews?"

She sighed. "My manager thinks I should have a girls' day out; I'm meeting Misa Amane." She tightened her hold on his arm.

He cringed for her. "Don't you despise that girl?" He began to rub her exposed forearm softly. "That manager of yours," he sighed.

"He's got his own agenda with this one. He wants to see us in a film together, to get my foot into the door of Japan's acting scene. He says I can ditch her after that." Miyo gestured to the building a couple blocks away. "She's over there working on some project now. I'm not expecting her until around two."

His attention followed her gesture. "It would take a few minutes to get here," he answered. "I'm guessing she's out at two?"

"I wouldn't know; he did all the talking to her. I'm guessing so, as those things tend to be unpredictable. If they want to do a few extra takes, they will do a few extra takes. I'm less important than her own career; or so I should be."

Reiji rested his chin on her head. "Your manager is something else." He seemed to be following the chastisement, 'If you can't say anything nice, say nothing at all.'

She giggled softly. "He has his good points, too."

"I'm sure he does," Reiji assented. "He isn't here; why talk about him? We have a moment together, shall we enjoy it?"

She put her hand into his, and he took it gladly. They sat there for a moment of silence, enjoying the physical company. Traffic was picking up around them as days ended early, and lunches ended late.

"Reiji, why aren't you at the office?" she asked, suddenly puzzled as to why he was there with her.

He lowered his head to whisper in her ear, "I snuck away when I saw you drive by. You have a very unmistakable car, with your vanity plates."

She glanced at the car's plates for the first time. Sure enough, there in the dark green lettering was the name Tsutsuji. Everyone would know who was driving that car. "You have a very good eye," she commented. "Your office is so high off street level."

"I was in a lower conference room at the time. We had just finished a marketing meeting. All I had left for the day was the ensuing mountain of paperwork. I can do that while you're on your shopping spree and be done by our date tonight."

She looked at him accusingly. "Who said anything about shopping?" she asked.

"When two girls get together, especially girls of status, there are three things you could be doing. The first and most likely is shopping. Following that would be a salon trip or a day spa. And the third and least likely between the two of you is to get together for lunch. You don't like her enough, and it's much too late for lunch to be practical."

She laughed lightly. "Fair enough," she stated. "I take you won't be escorting us, then?"

He lifted her hand to his lips. "As much as I would love to spend the entirety of my day with you, I do have work to get done. I also enjoy Misa's company just as much as you do, and haven't got pretence to endure through it. I will be a simple text message away from you at all times, my dear." He kissed her soft skin once more. "I hope you will forgive me."

She smiled. "I don't think I could ever stay angry at you."

"I would hope that I never made you angry in the first place," he stated, "Although I do appreciate your willingness to forgive me."

"I expected to face her alone; knowing that you can not stay does not disappoint me. You're a busy man, and I understand that."

His gaze lowered to her shoulder. "I will never be too busy for you, my dear. If you should like me to stay, I will."

She laughed again. "I couldn't ask that of you. Besides, I wouldn't want you to see what I buy for tonight. That would ruin the surprise."

He buried his face in her neck. "You're going to surprise me, are you?" he teased. "I can't wait to see it, then."

"Reiji, we're in public," she reminded him.

"There's a man with a camera slightly to our left," he informed her.

She glanced over that way and saw him, barely. He was hiding behind a sedan. "This is all for his camera?"

"They want affection, sweetheart," he stated.

She turned to look at him. "Is that what they want?" she teased. She ran her hand through his soft, raven hair, pulling slightly.

His eyes closed happily. "That's not fair," he sighed. "You're supposed to tease the camera man, not me."

She pouted playfully. "You're much more enjoyable, though. Tempting him wouldn't be so satisfying."

He sighed in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers through her body. "I'm glad you see it that way."

She turned around to face him, mostly, while staying in his arms. His eyes met hers, and she held his gaze. She could see the pleading in his eyes, and she smiled. He slowly leaned forward, giving her time to back away. She met him halfway, locking her lips to his; he caressed her cheek softly. His kiss was gentle and warm.

She could hear the shutter of the camera clicking like crazy as the photographer captured every second of their first kiss on film. Reiji pulled her closer to him, pinning her chest to his as they parted.

"If you two would like privacy, I would understand."

Miyo looked up to see Misa Amane staring at them pointedly. A light blush touched her cheeks, which Reiji swiftly noticed.

"Not at all necessary," he told her. "I was merely keeping Miss Tsutsuji company until you arrived." He left a soft, chaste kiss on her lips before removing himself from her embrace. "I'll be leaving you to your girl's day. Behave, you two," he teased.

Miyo squeezed his hand before he left her alone with the teenage nightmare that stood before her. "Have a good day," she sighed.

"And you, as well," he responded. "I will see you tonight. I'll be at your apartment at five thirty."

Misa chirped in, "Good bye, Namikawa-san!"

He gave her a short wave as he walked to his sporty black coupe.

"He's a dream boat," Misa gawked. "How'd you do it? He's the most sought after bachelor in Tokyo."

Miyo shrugged. "He found me," she confessed. "I just went on a coffee date with him, and now we're inseparable."

"I could tell," Misa giggled. She sat down and called a server over, ordering something far more complicated than Miyo's own order. "That kiss was steamy. The press will have fun with those shots for weeks."

"Hopefully," Miyo assented. "After all, that's why we're here, isn't it?"

Misa arched an eyebrow. "You and Namikawa-san?" she asked, seeking clarification.

"We're only together for publicity. At least, it started out that way." Miyo looked down at her coffee dramatically.

Misa looked at her with concern. "How awful! I could never date someone just for show. I would get way too into it, and then get hurt. Looking at you two, no one could tell. The way you look at each other just screams lovey-dovey. You're the hottest couple of the season, and you're telling me it's all show?" She had the good sense to lower her voice as she spoke, to not alert the press to the scandal she just found out. She may be a ditzy little girl, but she knew how one on one gossip worked.

"Like I said," Miyo reiterated, "It started out that way. He's always been really good at this. It took me a while to figure it out; I'm not good at committed relationships. I fear it won't stay that way, though."

Misa finally gathered where Miyo was hinting at. "You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" When Miyo nodded silently, Misa continued. "You poor girl. I hope he'll come around."

"He has been," she answered. "I'm not the only one falling for our lies."

Misa leaned back in her chair. "Good; the two of you are absolutely picture perfect. I don't think I've seen a more elegant couple."

"Thank you, Miss Amane." Miyo smiled.

"Please, call me Misa. We're friends now. The two of you have a date tonight, don't you?" Her eyes brightened.

"Yes, we do. Why do you ask?" She sipped the last of her coffee, draining the dup of its content.

"Then let's get you something that will make him fall for you as soon as he sees you tonight." She grabbed her coffee from the server, paid him, and took Miyo by the hand and sped down the side walk.

"Misa, I have a car," Miyo reminded her.

Misa's eyes got huge. "You do? Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Mello put down his phone and stepped outside, where Matt was smoking a cigarette. He took the fag from his friend and inhaled, then coughed on the rough fumes. "How the hell do you smoke those?" he asked.

Matt laughed. "You're a pussy." He took one of Miyoko's packs from his pocket. "That might suit you better," he stated.

Mello took one. "That blonde bitch is giving me a headache." He lit it, inhaled, and exhaled smoothly. "What the hell are you doing with these, anyway?"

"Sometimes, when I feel a strong surge of hatred for Miyoko, I light one just to spite her," he explained. "It's like a silent fuck you. If she knew, she'd scream."

"I doubt it," Mello sighed. "She doesn't rely on them as much as she used to. She buys her own now."

Matt shrugged. "They make a good change of pace every once in a while. They're nice, if you're feeling that shit."

Mello shrugged back. "Who cares; they're better than that shit you're dragging on." He took another hit from it, allowing the exotic sensation fill his mind. Nicotine rushes always felt strange to him.

Matt flicked his butt into the wet grass. "Someone should be listening to the girls. Now that they're away from Namikawa, it's a little more bearable to listen to." He turned to walk inside.

Mello grunted an affirmative. He despised listening to Miyo confess that she loved him, even though he knew it was all a lie. She wanted to run from Reiji, he could tell. She convinced Misa, and that was all that mattered. He was very possessive of his new play thing. He cringed knowing another man's lips felt hers, especially that wealthy sleaze's.

He leaned against the building, relishing in the pleasure of the cigarette. "I think it's time to relocate to Tokyo," he muttered to himself. "We're getting no where here."

XxX

It was right around four when Miyo and Misa hit the salon. Miyo already had an appointment, and they were able to make room for Misa in the chair right beside Miyo. They gossiped and giggled like little girls while the salon worked their hair. Miyo was going with a whole new colour; it was time to bring her hair up to date. She told the stylist about her date, and he went to work without asking for much guidance. Misa was getting darker lowlights, and asked for a couple inches off. Both stylists were working furiously on their clients as the girls talked away.

"Where do you think he's taking you?" Misa asked for at least the third time.

"I already told you," Miyo answered. "He wouldn't tell me where his reservations were made. All he told me was to wear something formal. It will be very black tie white glove."

The male behind her quietly squealed with delight at the thought of one of his designs being in the spotlight. "What colour is your dress, Miss Tsutsuji?" he asked.

She answered him politely, "It's green with a black lace overlay."

"That will be lovely with your eyes," he complimented. "I think I'll make you red, then."

She arched an eyebrow at him through the mirror. "You're making me a redhead?"

He nodded with a giddy smile on his face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to imagine herself as a flaming redhead. "I trust you, Ryoja. Make me shine."

Misa giggled. "You don't sound too convinced on this, Miyo. Are you sure you want to do it? After all, it is your hair."

"Honestly," she sighed, "I really don't care about my hair."

Both stylists gasped behind her as though she had just said something offending.

"It keeps you employed," Miyo defended. "If I wanted to do it myself, I would have. I don't want to, which is why I have you."

Misa nodded. "I know what you mean. It's so much nicer to get someone else to do your hair for you."

Ryoja beamed at the girls. "I only have an hour to make you shine, sweetie. It's time to get to work.

Miyoko felt tortured sitting in that chair, enduring Misa's babbling, the constant tugging on her hair, the fumes of the dyes, and the heat of the dryer against her scalp. The red came out much deeper and darker than she had expected, more of auburn than a ginger, and when he did her eyebrows to match, she couldn't tell it was dyed.

He styled it into deep, waving curls that fell about her shoulder, stopping just above her breasts. She looked paler than ever, although he had made her skin shine with various cosmetic products, which were brushed onto her face with care. She looked like a foreign beauty, European and exotic amongst the darkness of the Japanese genetics. Her eyes looked greener, her skin looked clearer, and the red popped.

"What do you think," Ryoja asked. "Are you still afraid of red?"

She just stared at herself. "Not at all," she answered. She was afraid to run her fingers through it for fear of ruining all his hard work.

"Go ahead," he prompted. "Play with it, move it, touch it all you want; it's your hair."

She petted it gingerly, feeling its softness through her fingers. "He is going to freak out when he sees this," she stated.

"It's five, dear," Misa reminded her. "We should get you home and ready. Your dress is waiting for you."

Ryoja chimed in, "I want pictures, dear."

Misa looked back over her shoulder as she pushed Miyo out the door. "Don't worry; I'll make sure you get them." Once they had reached the car, she also stated, "I think I found my new hair guy."

"He is something, isn't he?" Miyo consented. "Where am I taking you?" she asked.

Misa waved it off. "No worries, Miyo. My boyfriend's just around the corner waiting for me."

Miyo smiled. "Tell Yagami-san I said hello."

Misa retuned the smile weakly. "Sure thing," she answered. She was weary, for what ever reason, which unsettled Miyoko. "I'll see you later," she called back, walking away.

"See you," Miyo answered softly. She dug in her purse for her phone and pressed the number nine. It automatically speed dialled Mello, who answered on the second ring. "Misa is hiding something."

"_I had gathered that," _he answered. _"What do you think it might be?" _

"She tensed up when I mentioned Light. I think it has something to do with him." Miyoko started her car and sped out of the parking lot.

"_Do you think she might suspect what you're up to?" _He asked.

"I'm not exactly sure what she thinks. She mainly talked about Reiji. It was almost a fault. Either she's really trying to figure out if he's Kira, or she's hiding what she's really looking for." She weaved through the side streets, avoiding stopping if she could.

"_Those were my thoughts exactly. Just watch her closely for the next few encounters. We'll figure it out as we go." _He hung up on her at that point, allowing her to speed to her apartment to prepare for the second half of her performance.

If she thought getting her hair done was a challenge, getting into the dress presented a whole new battle. It had just arrived back from her tailor, who had her exact measurements, to the half centimetre. He cut the gown to fit her as though it were a second skin. She could only zip it halfway up her back before it cut off her movements in her torso. It lacked any sort of sleeve or strap, and was cut extremely low. The dress was cut just below her shoulder blades. She rarely showed any skin; she felt very exposed.

She felt hands on her back and instantly tensed up. "You look like you need a hand," Mello offered in the same seductive voice he used on Misa. "I must admit, he's going to be in for a surprise when he sees you in this."

"When did you get here?" Miyoko asked, puzzled. "I didn't hear you come in."

He finished with her zipper, making sure it lay flat against her spine. "Just now; I wanted to surprise you."

She turned and gave him a look of suspicion. "That's not like you at all. What the hell are you up to?"

He reached behind him to the bed, where a long, black velvet box lay. "I figured you could use this," he answered.

She took the box from him cautiously. When she opened it, she was surprised to find five highly polished, glittering, clear diamonds set on a silver choker; three on the collar and two suspended in a drop. "Mello," she whispered, "Why would you do this?"

He grinned mischievously. "I have my reasons. Let's get it on you."

She turned again, pulling her hair over her shoulder to allow him to clasp the necklace without it getting caught or in the way. When she looked in the mirror, it hung perfectly above her very exposed breasts. "It's beautiful," she sighed.

His hands lingered on her skin, void of his gloves. "You're welcome." He was warm against her bare back. He slid his hands down her sides and rested them on her hips. "You look like a woman any man would desire," he purred. "If your date wasn't expected so soon, I'd have to tear this off of you."

"Mello, behave yourself," she chastised. So that was it, then. He wanted something to show her that even though she was going out with Reiji tonight, she was still owned by him. Nothing suited better than a collar to remind her that she was his little pet, and he was her owner. As beautiful as the diamonds were, they were no more than a symbol of her imprisonment. He felt threatened by Reiji, just as Reiji felt threatened by him. Mello didn't even care about her. It was just his pride.

"You still have a dress to wear, don't you?" he mused. "If I wasn't behaving myself, he'd walk in to the sounds of you screaming my name." His voice had reverted back to its usual growl as he lapsed in his charade.

"I'm sure you'd love that," she jabbed sarcastically.

"I would enjoy nothing more than seeing his face as he discovers you beneath me in complete ecstasy." His voice smoothed back out, but the words still carried venom.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. "You're very possessive for a man I'm only having hate sex with."

He gained the look of someone she had just successfully offended. "Must you call it hate sex?"

She sighed in frustration. "That's all it is, Mello. I hate you, you hate me, and we fuck out our frustrations with each other, because let's face it; killing either of us is out of the question. I need you, and you need me because this shit is bigger than the both of us."

His anger clouded his eyes and he pinned her against the wall. "Nothing is too big for me to handle alone, Mi. Don't ever forget that. Fucking you is convenient, and happens to relieve a lot of stress. I don't need you for anything. I could kill you now and feel nothing about it." He glared deep into her eyes for a brief moment of angry silence. "And I don't hate you," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Then why do you continue to keep me, to torture me?" she asked. "What purpose do I have to you if you don't need me at all?"

He growled angrily at her. "Your purpose is to prove that I still have mercy."

She put her hands on his shoulders softly; they were extremely tense. "Mello, you need to calm down."

He jolted slightly at her touch. He hadn't been expecting softness from her. He watched her brain switch from Miyoko to Miyo, allowing the softer persona to take hold, keeping her from lashing out and escalating the situation to further violence. His eyes narrowed as he realized that she was beginning to become the lie. He was changing her into something else entirely, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Derrick had moulded her for his purposes, and now Mello shaped her for his. She bent in any way he pushed her, really, if he did it correctly. Was he really becoming the man he hated so much, and taking his hatred out on her?

He put a hand over hers, and made a conscious effort to return his voice to the soft, seductive whisper it had been before. "You're mine because I choose to keep you. Don't forget that, Mi." He threaded his left hand through her hair, keeping hold of hers on his shoulder. He gripped her strands lightly, holding her as he gave her a lingering kiss. Her lips were nearly lifeless under his, which stirred his anger just a tad more. He kept it under control, however, allowing her what little defiance she had under the present circumstances. She'd come around, eventually. He took her lower lip between his briefly before breaking away from her.

"Mello, I don't have the time for sex right now," she stated, brushing his hands off of her body.

He sighed, exasperated. "It isn't just the sex, damn it. You're mine. If I choose to kiss you, then I will. If I want to hold you, then you'll be in my arms. If I want to fuck you senseless, then you'd better believe you won't be sleeping that night."

She sighed, and looked at the floor. "I don't suppose my wants come in to play there at all."

"That depends entirely on what you want," he answered. "If your wish is to rebel against me, then no, they don't. If you genuinely have a reason to want something different, then they might."

She rolled her eyes. "You're something else, Mello; a complete fuck case."

He kissed her lips once more, only this time with softness. "You'll never understand me, Mi, so stop trying."

She rested her head on his chest, allowing his arms to circle around her. "I never was trying to understand you to begin with. I'm only trying to figure out what you want from me."

Before he could answer, there was a knocking at her front door. Mello hastily pinned her back to the wall and kissed her passionately. She was to startled to respond, but eventually kissed him back, realizing that the sooner she satisfied his craving for her to accept his ownership, the sooner she could allow Reiji to take her away.

His hands touched almost every inch of her that he could reach before he finally pulled away. "Go," he whispered. "Be with him while you remember me." He rubbed down her abdomen slowly, getting dangerously low on her stomach. He left another kiss on her mouth, biting her lip before letting her slip out of his arms. When she had left the room, he whispered, "When I'm done with you, you'll never long for another man again."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Miyoko begged what ever higher power there may have been to keep Mello hidden as she slid her long, black gloves up her arm and adjusted the earpiece she was wearing. Prior to letting her leave, Mello had installed a microphone among one of the diamond clusters in her necklace. She pulled open the front door, revealing a very handsome and well polished Reiji wearing a black suit, black shirt, and a slender, off white tie pierced with a large, emerald cravat pin. His hair was elegantly loose around his shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that was framing his pale face. He smiled when he saw her.

"Miyo, you look stunning." He entered the apartment and pulled her into his arms. "You're a redhead now," he observed.

"My stylist thought it was time to update my look," she explained. "Do you like it?" She rested her head on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't hear her heart attempting to beat out of her chest.

"I love it," he answered. "It suits you very well." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You look absolutely amazing. There's only one thing I would change."

She pulled away from him, unsure of what he was saying. He smiled softly and reached into the pocket of his suit and produced a black box similar to the one Mello had just presented her with.

She took it from him, but thought of the necklace at her throat. Mello had known Reiji was getting her something and wanted to beat him to the punch. He still had Reiji's phone tapped, then, and had over heard him purchasing the expensive piece.

She smiled at him playfully, snapping back to the moment. "You shouldn't have, Reiji." She opened the box to reveal a diamond and emerald bracelet, which matched his ensemble perfectly; not to mention her own. The emerald on his pin could have been pulled from the bracelet itself. "How did you know?" she asked breathlessly. The nicest thing any man had bought her was the silver lighter Jenji had given to her all those years ago.

He took the bracelet from her and put it on her left wrist, where it contrasted and glittered against the black fabric of her glove. "I figured you'd do something to make those beautiful eyes pop out."

She arched an eyebrow in suspicion, not quite believing his tale. There was no way it was as simple as that.

"Alright," he confessed with an overtly dramatic eye roll. "I asked Misa what you had gotten, but only so I could coordinate my gift with your dress. I didn't ask for a description of it, only the colour, promise."

She playfully batted his shoulder with the black lace fan that was lying next to her little black purse on the entry table. "Admit it, you were curious," she scolded. "You asked her for exact details, and she wouldn't tell you."

"Alright, I was a little curious," he confessed slyly. "But she wouldn't tell me anything more than the colour. I had no idea you'd go for something so tailored, or lacy. You really do look amazing."

"Thank you, Reiji." She clutched her purse and fan and took his hand. They headed toward the elevator, leaving Mello alone in the apartment. She felt a pang of anxiety as she wondered what he was going to do in there, or how long he would stay. Part of her knew he would remain until she returned, or longer.

When the got to street level, she found that Reiji had a driver escorting them tonight in his black town car. The driver opened the door, and Reiji helped Miyo slide in without harming her dress. He sat down next to her, allowing her to lean into him as they drove.

"Where are we going?" she asked, curiously. "You've kept me in secret for a week now. What's going on?"

He looked down into her eyes. "I'm finally showing you off to my company," he answered. "Tonight they're pulling together a dinner party with some of our key investors and potential clients, and we're making an appearance together."

She just looked shocked. "Why wasn't I told about this sooner?"

He chuckled softly. "You worry too much, my dear. You're there to have a good time as my date, and I'm there to make sure it goes as smoothly as possible." He kissed her black clad hand, allowing her bracelet to slide down and catch the city light in its facets. "You're my failsafe, to keep me from getting too bored."

She smiled. "When you put it like that, I feel so important." The sarcasm was eminent in her voice.

He caressed her face. "But you are important, my dear. That's why I'm bringing you along. The investors are bringing their wives, and so are the married men among our company. I'm showing the world that you're the woman in my life; that there's no one else for me. I'm committing the ultimate sin, darling; I'm mixing business with pleasure, and I fear it's becoming a habit."

She smiled warmly at him. "Keep going on like this, and the press is going to think things are getting serious between us."

"Then let them," he sighed. He kissed her softly, and she immediately responded by leaning closer to him as his hand trailed down her gloved arm.

"Reiji," she whispered cautiously when they parted.

He softly kissed her again before she could say anything more. "There are questions in your eyes that would be best if left for when we return from the party. For now, I just want you to focus on the experience of tonight, alright?"

She narrowed her eyes wearily and nodded, agreeing to keep the questions back until they had enjoyed their night together. The driver pulled in front of a very expensive and high end restaurant, where reporters and photographers stood in front, and a crowd had already begun to gather. Every business man was dressed sharply, and the women were the definition of glamour.

Reiji stepped out gracefully when the driver opened the door for him and he extended a hand to her, helping her to her feet. She gathered her skirts and stepped onto the concrete, and as soon as she had herself straightened out, camera flashes blinded her and reporters started calling their names.

Reiji linked his arm through the crook of her elbow and led her through the revolving glass doors without pausing. It was obvious that they were a couple. Once they were inside, he moved his arm so that his hand was positioned on her lower back, just at the curve in her spine.

Miyo did her best to appear calm and collected as the wealthy turned their heads to stare and gossip behind menus and fans. This was supposed to be her comfort zone. She walked slowly, focusing on one foot at a time; it would be such an embarrassment if she tripped over her hemline.

Reiji guided her to a table at the front of the dining room. They paced the circumference of the round table until he found their place cards. He pulled out her chair for him, like a gentleman, and kissed her cheek softly when she was seated. He took his place beside her, and immediately took her hand.

She dropped her purse below her feet, where it was hidden under the table. She knew in the back of her mind that these people weren't a threat to her, and she really didn't have anything of use in that bag; but her past haunted her, and being street savvy meant she knew better than to leave her bag in the open.

Once they had placed an order with one of the meandering, well dressed wait staff, they rose from their seats to mingle with the masses. Reiji did most of the talking as he wandered from one cluster to another; mostly about shares and company matters that went over Miyo's head. She wasn't expected to hold much conversation. She was a model. What sense did she have of the business world? She shook hands, bowed politely, received compliments, gave compliments, smiled, flirted, and talked Reiji up to his potential clients' wives.

The women were completely different. They were snotty cats who thought that just because their husbands were powerful business men, they owned the world. Everything had to go their way, even though they had very little say in any of the matters, as their husbands held firm to the check books. It was strange for Miyo to watch every one these pompous women struggle to maintain control over the entire situation without upsetting the entire social scale. They stabbed each other in the back not five minutes after exchanging kisses on the cheek.

When she left their small cliques, she could overhear their snide remarks about her being a foreign outsider. "She'll never do for that young man; models haven't got any business being in business. What could she possibly bring to the table other than scantily clad photos of herself? How is that going to keep a global market afloat?" These remarks would be accompanied by their punctuated, staccato laughter. Everything about these women was forced and unnatural, down to the way they held their heads just a little higher than everyone else. At this rate, she would rather be in the company of Misa Amane.

Mello finally chimed in. _"Mi, we're receiving live feed from you now. Everything sounds perfect. Hum softly if you can hear me." _

She hummed the simple melody of a song she had heard on the radio earlier that day. Reiji turned to look at her, and smiled softly.

"_That's great, Mi; captured that clearly. You're doing great. Just get through the night in one piece, and perhaps we can find the impostor Kira. You're dining with a killer, remember that." _

Her eyes widened. He had forgotten to mention that when he had briefed her for her date. He intended to use the sound system sooner, but it had only just arrived two days ago.

She focused on Reiji, who was now talking to the company's chief financial officer. They were going over figures with an investor for the next quarter's projected profits, who had introduced himself as Gamaji Reyokinowa. Reyokinowa kept his eyes on Miyo greedily, enviously. She could see the ill intent in his eyes, and so could Reiji.

Reiji, like the gallant knight he was, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her as close to his side as she could possibly be. He held her right hand in his, and she rested her head on his shoulder. It was a very risqué to hold her that way in such a formal and public event, but it made her relax a little more, standing before the man who ate her up with his eyes. The statement was made that she belonged to Reiji.

Mello sounded extremely bored. _"Next time, Mi, you need to get the damn location out of him so we can set up cameras before the event starts. Not having a visual to go off of is extremely inconvenient, and is pissing me off." _

She sighed exasperatedly, as quietly as she could and still be sure he heard her. 'I really wish you would leave me the fuck alone, Mello,' she thought to herself. 'You're being distracting, and it's a pain in my ass.'

Gamaji had taken to talking to the CFO, and didn't notice her sigh. Reiji, however, did notice, and was now looking at her curiously. "Is everything alright, darling?" he asked warmly.

She looked him in the eye and smiled. "I'm a bit thirsty and would like a drink; would you mind if we ventured to get one?"

Reiji nodded and allowed her to lead him away to the nearest caterer with a tray of drinks. This particular man was offering a sparkling rose wine. She accepted a fluted glass off the tray and sipped it delicately until her glass was depleted.

Another waiter stepped up onto a platform and struck a water glass with a fork. "If I may have your attention, please; dinner is served." He stepped back down and the entire wait staff rushed out of the kitchens and brought forth the parade of food so tempting, the smell made Miyo's mouth water.

Reiji and Miyo slowly wandered over to their table, where all of the top chairmen sat together. The table seated ten. At the table across from theirs sat the upper management. Placed before her were steamed albacore, vegetable udon, rice, and onigiri. Reiji opted to eat the same, keeping with their appearance as a unit.

Suddenly remembering Mello, Miyo looked to her date, who was now tasting the fish cautiously. "My manager would like to know where you intend our future dates to be; he wanted me to relay that message to you." She sipped on another glass of pink wine, smiling mischievously. The sensation of the alcohol in her stomach also added to the giddiness of the smirk.

"_Miyoko, what are you doing?" _Mello hissed through the earpiece.

"Is that so?" Reiji asked after swallowing his tester bite, "Did he give you a reason why?" He poked around at the food while he waited for an answer.

Miyo giggled at the thought of Reiji's reaction if she told him the truth, but decided against telling him for the sake of her life. "He just would like to know what sort of press coverage there is likely to be, so he can plan accordingly which companies to threaten and so forth," she explained. "He is very concerned about my image being kept to his standard, and understands that no matter how hard we may try, it is really decided by the moods of the editors of the various tabloids across Japan."

Reiji's eyebrow twitched in agitation. "Are you telling me that he knows which journalists will make an appearance based off of the location of the rendezvous?"

Miyo nodded and took another sip. "I think he even has it mapped out. You see, he once worked very closely with the press, and it came to his understanding that certain magazines have dominating territories, just like news stations. In one side of town, you might be addressed by Sakura TV, for instance, and on the other side, Channel Four will take the lead. The same goes for tabloids, only it's much more of a dog eat dog market than television. The public doesn't see what goes on at the time of the reporting, so it doesn't have to be as clean." She took a small bite of the udon, tasting the explosion of flavours on her tongue.

Reiji smiled in a bemused fashion. "It all sounds rather dangerous. Are you sure your line of work is safe?" he teased.

She chuckled. "It's as safe as any other job, surely. More so for me than most, perhaps; my manager does a fairly decent job at warding off any threats."

Reiji nodded, sipping a spoon full of broth. "He does have an intimidating stance to him at times," he confessed. "Not much to be afraid of, but he makes you think twice about hurting you. What people should really be afraid of is what I'll do to them if I find out you're hurt."

Mello chuckled through the other end. _"I am going to fall out of my chair laughing if you're dating Kira, Mi. Ask him what he plans on doing, just to find out. I want to know if he's making this shit up as he goes, or if he's really sat down and thought this all out like some over protective big brother." _

"What would you do to them?" she asked. "I'm just curious. You seem to have this all figured out."

Reiji chuckled softly. "Honestly, I don't really know. I'd be too enraged to actually remember and follow a plan. I'd probably grab the first lethal object I could get a hold of and use it to the best of my advantage. I'd track them all down and made them suffer, each perpetrator would feel the equivalent of your pain."

She sighed softly. "You're so sweet, Reiji. You'd go through all that trouble just for me, without a care that it's highly illegal."

He smiled again, continuing to slowly pick at the meal in front of him without much interest in the food itself. "Would you really be so hard to convince that you're worth it to me? A woman like you is a rare and valuable gem; one of a kind. To let harm befall you would be foolish. I couldn't live with myself if that happened. Just discussing the possibility with you upsets me. I would much rather you just remain safe."

She could hear one of the boys making gagging sounds back on base, which nearly killed the mood. She wondered if he was just saying that for the CFO's wife, who was seated next to Reiji and casually leaning closer, or for the single executive something or other who was sneaking glances at Miyo's bust between mouthfuls? Could he have actually meant that? These were the kinds of questions he made her promise not to ask until their night was over; the exact same questions she had in the car on the way here.

"So long as I am with you," she responded softly, "I will always feel safe."

He kissed the top of her head protectively. "That's how you should feel around me. I will always do what I can to make sure you're taken care of, Miyo. No harm could ever come to you, so long as you're beside me. That's a promise." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her toward him, making sure the gossip flew at the speed of sound.

He could almost see it jump from table to table like wildfire, catching reputations ablaze. He caught whispers about a couple three tables over from Mrs. CFO; he was sure she was bartering her own knowledge for the information trade. What better than the fresh supply next to her?

He rubbed Miyo's arm absently, and registered the presence of goose flesh on her skin. Thinking she was cold and hoping to warm her up, he continued the caressing, hoping to stimulate her blood flow. When he noticed that it got worse as he continued, he stopped altogether. The reaction satisfied him immensely; knowing he could bombard her body with sensations she couldn't control.

She leaned her head on his shoulder after some time and closed her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered against her high cheek bones, and he knew she was beginning to get tired. It was barely nine, and the guests were already thinning out. She had consumed more wine than food, and was probably feeling a bit tipsy at that point.

"Miyo, are you feeling alright?" he asked, worried. "I don't want you to over do it." He placed a caring hand on her forehead, which felt fine to his touch.

"I'm alright," she answered. "I'm just feeling a little sleepy. Would you mind if we went home soon?"

He smiled at her. "Sure thing, my pet; we'll leave in a moment. As soon as the CEO has made his closing speech, we'll depart."

Almost as if on cue, the man who was seated at the forefront of the table stood up and walked briskly to the podium to address the people before him before too many of them had ditched to find the soothing warmth of their beds.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Mello sighed and put down his headset next to his keyboard. Miyoko had entered Reiji's apartment after a rather tedious speech about prospective futures and reliance upon one another to survive in today's economy. They crossed the entrance hall without saying much; oddly uncharacteristic if tonight was any indication. He had to remind himself just how much of what they were doing was for show, which was hard. His jealousy would not listen to his reasoning logic.

"_You had a few questions for me," _Reiji reminded her as soon as she sat down on the couch in the living room. _"Now would be the perfect time to ask. There's no one listening to us." _

She chuckled softly, knowing just how wrong he was. _"Well, to start; why did you buy me the bracelet?" _she asked. _"I think it's gorgeous, but was it necessary?" _

It was his turn to chortle softly. _"I couldn't help it, Miyo. The public loves that sort of thing. To see you explain that it was a gift from me would set the gossip like wild fire." _

"_Alright; but what do you gain from them thinking you're hopelessly in love with me?" _Mello watched her straighten out her skirt. "_Isn't it enough that they know we're dating?" _

"_Miyo, investors look at a business man's life as an indication of how he runs a corporation. Up until now, all they've seen in me is a reckless bachelor who plays with the hearts of the women around him," _he explained. _"So to them, it seems as though I'll toy with their heads, throwing deals their way that would seem too good to be true, and they're going to automatically assume that it is." _

"_What do they see when they see me next to you?" _She crossed her ankles like a lady, even though she was awfully uncomfortable. "_I'm a model, not a respectable heiress. Won't it seem a bit superficial on your part?" _

He caressed her softly. _"It would at the first glance, and the women would certainly think it and leave it at that, but the men are a different tale. They'd look at you and see a challenge. You're new to them, incredibly beautiful, highly intelligent, wealthy, powerful, and charming. It makes me seem ambitious, daring, and determined. I won your affections, and they're going to see that as an achievement to commend upon." _

She shifted slightly. _"So I'm just an award on display, then?" _

Reiji sighed, having just walked into a wall. _"Before I answer that, tell me, what the purpose of being seen with me is?" _

Mello's eyes widened instinctually. "Be careful, Mi."

She tapped on her ear, giving the signal for him to pull a story out of his ass.

To make it seem natural, he said the first thing that came to his mind. "You're with him to get your foot in the door of Japan's aristocracy. You're an outsider; you would never be accepted on your own, no matter how successful you were. They'd look at you as a foreigner, a freak. With him, they see you and only you. If you're good enough to win the heart of the most eligible bachelor in Tokyo, then who could pass judgement on you without satisfying their curiosity to know what's so special to make him want you?"

Miyo mirrored the answer expertly, adding her own personal flair to make it sound genuine. Reiji looked sympathetic toward her, stroking her hand softly in his own as he listened. _"That sounds about right. Japanese society can be very judgemental of outsiders. I'm sure that can be said for any culture." _

Miyoko nodded all too knowingly. "_You're right. Brittan can be just as guilty of looking down upon, or even shunning, outsiders. It's pretty loathsome, but something we all must endure if we ever intend to spread our wings and fly." _

Reiji leaned back on the sofa, his long hair cascading down the back. _"It sounds like you have a lot of hatred for Brittan." _

She sighed and rested on his shoulder. _"Not so much hatred of Brittan itself, but of the people who were once dear to me there." _Mello could actually see the façade lift from Miyoko's face as she became herself once more. Without intending to, Mello straightened in his chair as Miyoko allowed herself to become vulnerable and honest; she was in danger of revealing herself to the one person Mello needed to believe her lies the most. He was in danger of losing everything he had invested in Reiji Namikawa. _"It's a painful story for me, and I don't think it's one you'd enjoy hearing. We agreed to leave the past where it belongs." _

Reiji nodded, and Mello relaxed as he wondered what it was that Namikawa was hiding from her. It seemed almost suspicious that they had such a rule in place at all. He remembered Reiji requesting they not talk about their past lovers, although it seemed that the rule had extended to cover all of their past personal affairs. He also wondered who it was Mi was talking about; was it Derrick, or someone else entirely? He knew very little about her time in the UK, and it bothered him a little to think there might be someone her heart might already belong to.

He sighed in agreement. _"I just might be getting curious enough to lift that ban,"_ he stated. _"I'm not quite there yet, but someday, I'll want to know." _

She looked at him with a hint of anxiety in her eyes. _"I'll have my own questions for you, don't worry." _

Reiji stood from the couch. _"I think it's time we get to bed, my dear." _

"_That's right, it's only Tuesday," _she realized. She stood up and took his offered arm._ "You have work in the morning."_ Mello watched as Miyoko became Miyo once more and he sighed. 'That was close, Mi; too close,' he thought to himself. 'Don't let your guard down again.'

She looked directly into the camera as they passed, seeming to gaze right into Mello's eyes as though she had heard his silent order. He could tell that what ever it was she was hiding was painful to her through that one, short glance. She quickly turned away afterward, making sure that Namikawa didn't happen to spot the camera recording his every move.

Matt looked over Mello's shoulder, bringing the coffee he had been sent to get almost half an hour ago. "When did Miyoko learn about the cameras?" he asked, setting Mello's steaming mocha before him.

"I was just wondering that myself," Mello replied, mostly ignoring the brew. He bit into a corner of his chocolate bar as he watched the two get ready for bed.

"When did she decide to sleep over; fucking tramp." Matt collapsed onto the couch facing the monitors and put his feet up on the coffee table.

Mello mostly dismissed Matt's grumbling; he knew it stemmed from his deep seeded hatred for her. "I don't think he gave her an option. He just ushered her to the bedroom."

They watched as she took another lacy night gown and wandered into his bathroom to undress. He could tell just how much she had to drink when she fumbled with her dress and nearly fell over, barely catching herself on the vanity counter. She peeled the dress away awkwardly, allowing the fragile black lace fall to the floor, revealing the green satin underneath in a crumpled heap.

Mello gazed at her revealed form openly. She wore a very teasing lingerie ensemble of satin and lace that enhanced her form. The bra was strapless, yet supported her completely, and the skimpy underwear barely covered anything. He could feel his erection pressing against the tight leather confines of his pants, yearning for the warmth of her silky smooth body.

"Fucking slut," Matt huffed moodily. He crossed his arms and looked away, slightly red in the face.

"Shut the fuck up," Mello demanded. "She isn't having sex with him. Get over it, damn it."

Matt glared at him, angry. "No, she's not sleeping with him because she's too busy fucking you. She's drunk, and you're not there; I wonder if that'll change tonight?"

"Aren't you the one who was constantly begging us to just get it out of the way?" Mello accused.

Matt rolled his eyes. "I didn't think you'd keep doing it. You don't usually return to a girl once you've defiled her."

Mello laughed. "It doesn't suit me to let them get attached to me. I gain nothing from having them around."

"I still don't see what Miyoko has to offer you, other than someone who won't put up with your bullshit.

Mello looked back at Miyoko, who was now brushing her teeth over the sink. She had left her dress on the floor, forgotten. "She's the key to finding Kira, Matt."

XxX

Reiji found himself suddenly awake in the darkness of his room. Glancing over to his clock, he groaned softly at the early hour. He felt confused and disoriented, but slowly remembered where he was and what had happened the night prior. He rolled back to his side and saw in the shadows Miyo, curled up in a ball with tears steadily streaming down her face.

He watched her, reaching a hand out to hers, which were clutching the pillow with a death grip. She was having a nightmare, and it broke his heart to see her vulnerable and afraid. He wanted to hold her, tell her it would be alright, but while she was sleeping, that wasn't possible.

At his slightest touch, she bolted upright and panicked herself awake. He expected her to scream, but she only whimpered slightly before she realized where she was or who she was with. She collected herself and wiped the tears from her face. He tried touching her again, and she jumped, startled, but allowed his caress.

"I'm sorry, Reiji. I didn't mean to wake you," she stated calmly.

He pulled her to him, allowing her to settle into his arms with her head on his chest. "You didn't wake me; I woke you."

She lowered her gaze. He softly stroked her hair, trying to comfort her. "Are you alright, Miyo?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.

He frowned at the defensiveness in her voice. "I don't suppose you'd want to talk about what it was you dreamed about, then?"

She sighed. "It's just another personal thing that keeps me from wanting to go back to Brittan," she answered. "They're just dreams now, nothing more." She closed her eyes and tried to forget the horrors of watching Derrick unload a clip into Jenji, who just lay on the floor, defenceless. Mello had not been there to shoot him down when he turned the gun to Miyo. She woke with the very real pain in her shoulder where Mello had shot her, reminding her that she knew the pain Jenji and Derrick went through before they died. She rubbed at it without thinking.

Reiji kissed the top of her head. "When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be there to listen," he promised. "I want you to be able to tell me anything."

She nodded, unable to say anything more. The tears were threatening to overwhelm her. She would never have her boys back. Her best friend had given his life for her, and the one who always protected her had died because of his murder. As much as she feared seeing Derrick in her dreams, she missed his laugh and cocky smile. She would never have that back. She never thought he would be able to kill his best friend, all because of drunken rage.

"Miyo," Reiji softly called to her. She moved her hand to his in response, and he held hers firmly. "You're safe here, I promise. It will be alright. I'm here for you. You don't have to be afraid."

She looked him in the eye, knowing that she would always be afraid of getting to close to him. She would hold him at an arm's length, same as she does with Mello. She doesn't have to be as harsh with her words with Reiji; the lie that is Miyo Tsutsuji is all she needs to guarantee he will never get to know who she really is. If he knew he shared a bed with a common criminal, a street mouse, she knew he would be revolted.

She tried her best to become Miyo once more. "Thank you, Reiji. That's all I need right now." She closed her eyes and focused on the rhythm of his hand stroking her hair softly. She slowly relaxed, easing back into sleep.

He watched her as her shoulders eased slowly, and then she felt lighter as her breathing evened out. 'Whatever it was that she dreamed about, it was something terrible,' he thought. 'I have never seen her look so fragile; she puts on a brave face for the world, but something truly haunts her.'

He kissed the top of her head again, hoping her dreams would be sweeter.

XxX

Mello watched as Reiji came to consciousness. His focus had been Miyoko for the last twenty minutes as he watched her write in the blankets. He guessed that she was still having terrors about Derrick, and longed to be the one beside her when she woke. It was his fault she had to face that monster again, and his fault he had died. He couldn't do anything to save Jenji, but somehow, he could sense her sorrow for the loss of Derrick as well. It made no sense to him; the man nearly killed her on multiple occasions, yet she was still loyal to him. He had done terrible things to her, yet he had what Mello longed for. What was he doing wrong? Why had that monster captured her, yet Mello couldn't duplicate the results?

He sighed angrily. Matt was sleeping on the couch, waiting to be woken up. His shift should have started ten minutes ago, but Mello wanted to protect Miyoko from Matt's hatred; she wouldn't be seen by him in such a vulnerable state. Sometimes Mello wondered why he cared for her the way he does. He normally wouldn't care. It didn't bother him that Matt had seen her mostly naked, but he wouldn't allow him to see her cry.

He watched the entire scene unfold before him, as Miyoko put up her barriers against Reiji. Mello could read her like a book. Namikawa had never been farther away from her than he was now. He could never know what ails her if they were to succeed in their mission to find Kira. It satisfied him to know that Namikawa would never know her heart; he was angry, and knew he would never grasp it, either.


End file.
